


one hundred and forevermore

by wistering



Series: one hundred lifetimes [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: 100 Lifetimes Challenge, Alternate Universe, Every type of AU and twist, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Non-Chronological, Parallel Universes, Pining, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-07-27 10:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 62,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistering/pseuds/wistering
Summary: It all started with two boys who fell in love.





	1. Cafe

It would make sense if Loki would just stop chasing him. If would be better if Loki would just accept that some things were not meant to be - that the universe had not writ them in stars, that there was no red thread tying their lives together. That if soulmates were a thing that existed, then Thor and Loki were not among them.

Loki has chased Thor in every universe. He has loved Thor since their first lives together, and he has tried, with every life, with every breath, to find the man he loves in every life since. In some lifetimes, he does. In others, he doesn’t. He does not know if the lives in which he cannot find Thor are better than the ones where Thor already loves someone else.

_‘I will never forgive you for what you’ve done,’_ was what Thor had hissed to him at the end of their last life. Loki, his hands stained with blood, had only laughed, laughed, before Thor killed him.

It would be better if Loki and Thor were not together. For Loki had always been the one to greedily chase after Thor; Loki had always been the one seeking to possess him. If Loki did not seek him out, then Thor would never know the difference. Thor did not feel Loki’s loss like a gaping wound in his soul. Thor never remembered Loki. But Loki always remembered Thor.

He remembers the hatred in Thor’s eyes when Thor struck his hammer to him.

So here Loki sits: in a cafe in Paris, a cup of tea cooling on the table in front of him. He had brought a book with him, but it lay forgotten now on the edge of the table.

At the other side of the cafe, Thor tips his head back and laughs.

It would be better if Loki did not reach out to him. Let them be as two ships passing in the night; let Thor live in peace. Loki should let go. Loki had to let go, lest he continue to destroy Thor, to destroy the man who had loved him of his own will but once, in the very first of their lives. He could let go. He had to.

Loki was a silent crier. He sat in a corner darkened by the shade of the plants which hung like a curtain over the window of the cafe, so no one would see him as he wept to himself.

It would be better this way.

Loki stared down into his tea, and wondered if he would ever be able to taste anything again.

Since he first noticed Thor, his ears had only listened to the sound of the other man’s laughter. And now there was only silence. Silence in the emptiness.

It was for this reason that Loki did not realize someone was beside him until a hand tapped at his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

Loki blinked. The tears fell in drops from his lashes, and he looked up.

There Thor stood, gazing at him. His eyes were bright, innocent, and held only concern.

“I--” Loki started, but he couldn’t find the words.

Thor’s face softened. He leaned down, his hand warm on Loki’s shoulder. “Listen, I feel like - I feel like I’ve - sorry. I know that you don’t know me, but would you mind if I joined you?”

“Go ahead,” was all Loki could say.

Thor grinned. He slid into the seat at the other end of the table. “Wonderful. Because I feel like… something tells me that I really want to get to know you.” He smiled at Loki, and his eyes were happy. “My name is Thor. What’s yours?”


	2. Forest Witch

“Hello, witch.”

Loki sighed. He extracted his fingers from the leaves of the aconite flowers and said, “How many times must I tell you? I’m not a witch.”

“Then why do you dress like one?” The young boy trundled out from the edge of the trees, disregarding all the signs - the skulls, the bog, the line of thorns, and the poisonous plants that Loki had circled around his home to warn people away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Loki said. “Haven’t the villagers told you it’s dangerous?”

“My mum says you’re alright,” Thor said. He came close to Loki, grinning, and held aloft the basket in his arms. “She made scones!”

Loki looked at him as if he were particularly daft.

Thor stood in a dark and shadowy part of the forest, where the trees grew spindly and grey. The grass grew in black patches, often with nettles that caught and scratched at one’s legs. Wolves prowled its boundaries, and the only birds which nested here were ravens and crows which cawed ominously in the daytime.

Loki’s cottage was the one spot of green, hidden far and deeper into the forest than any sane and self-preserving person should venture. Loki’s home was the one place where the trees grew lush and green; where the grasses swelled with flowers and ferns. Berries grew from the bushes, and Loki’s garden of herbs and flowers prospered, painting subtle colors around his small and cozy wooden abode. This was the one place in the deep forest where sunlight broke through the trees, and the light illuminated Loki as well as Thor, when he approached.

Thor, in every lifetime, was never particularly self-preserving. It was for this reason that the boy came to stand beside Loki without any care, not minding the glare Loki set upon him.

Thor flipped open the cloth covering the basket. The smell of fresh and warm baked goods wafted into the clearing. Inside the basket were an array of beautifully-baked scones, golden brown and speckled with nuts and dried fruits. They were enticing enough to make any mouth water, including Loki’s. Thor grinned up at Loki. “I told you I’d bring you some, right?”

“You did,” Loki said, “despite my clearly telling _you_ that you should not venture here again until you were older.”

“I am older,” Thor rebutted. “By a week!”

Loki rolled his eyes heavenward. “You never do what’s best for you, you silly boy.”

“It’s not like you’ll hurt me.”

“I could _eat you_.” Loki bared his teeth in a wicked smile.

“Why would you do _that_ when you could be eating these scones, instead?”

Loki stared down at Thor. Thor stared back, so utterly trusting, and so utterly determined. The only thing that could stop him would probably be Loki throwing him into the bog. “Fine,” Loki conceded, sighing. He opened the door to his cottage with a flick of magic. “Then come inside. We shall take them with tea.”


	3. Prisoner

Loki first realized something was wrong when he had passed six years of age. Until then, it had been a fleeting feeling, a half-formed thought that he could not understand or grasp.

He had felt that something in his life was missing.

He walked the corridors of the castle and thought there was someone he should have been following. He opened the illuminated tomes in the library and waited for someone to come and pull him away to go outside.

He heard phantom laughter at the edge of his ears. Sometimes his hand closed around a grasp he could not remember.

The certainty came when he was six years old. A lord from another castle arrived to visit, and with him came his brood of children. Loki saw these children, in particular a pair of twins - one dark-haired, one light-haired - and began to weep inconsolably. No matter how the servants tried to comfort him, or how his father tried to admonish him, Loki could not cease crying. After three days, he wept himself into a fever, and in his hazed dreams he cried out for a person he could not remember.

He felt like he was choking.

Even years later, he still felt it: a weight around his neck, like the heavy grip of something which kept him from saying a name that had once weighed so often on his tongue.

Loki eventually learned to cope with the grief that had settled deep within his chest, with the loss that was so profound that a child should never have been able to feel it. He learned to function as someone half-missing, even without the knowledge of why he was so broken.

He wondered if there was someone out there who felt the same things he did. If somewhere in the world, there was another boy who felt like half of him was gone, like the world was off-balance and at any moment he would tip over and fall across its edge.

Loki felt like he had been falling for a long time.

It was only when he was eleven that he first felt the earth shifting beneath his feet.

Two years earlier, a war had sparked with the neighboring kingdom. Loki remembered the day: the messengers had rushed into the King’s court in a flurry, tripping over their own feet, and declared that the neighboring kingdom’s princess had accused the King of invading their protectorate’s lands. She demanded war.

For two long years, the war waged bloody and vicious. With each passing campaign, Loki saw fewer and fewer of his father’s men return, their faces growing ever grimmer and gaunter. It was only on one fateful day that the men returned with grins. They reported to the King that they had captured a prisoner - a prisoner of great importance, one that could help them win the war.

That prisoner was now in the deepest cell of the castle’s dungeons.

He was delirious with fever caused from infection of his wounds. The prisoner groaned from pain, his handsome face distorting. Whenever he opened his blue eyes, they were bleary and hazed; they could barely focus on Loki, who sat beside the bunk, his small hands tending to the prisoner’s stomach wound.

Loki had never learned the ways of healing. He had never studied herbs, and had never seen the manner of healing that his hands now worked - but the moment Loki had seen the prisoner dragged into his father’s court, half-dead and trailing blood,  his heart had pounded in his chest. Knowledge resonated deep in his bones: you must save him. He is everything.

So Loki ripped bandages with his small, shaking fingers. He wiped the prisoner’s wounds with alcohol, making sure to leave no dirt or stain on him. He pounded a salve of strange herbs he did not recognize but somehow knew would work, and he carefully applied the salve to the wound before dressing it with cloth and bandages.

Loki fed the prisoner porridge, and when the prisoner could barely even work his mouth to swallow, Loki cried.

Yet even as the tears trailed down his face, Loki set his lips into a determined scowl and forced the man to swallow. The prisoner choked a little, but eventually managed to down the sustenance.

A few nights later, the prisoner’s fever had broken. He recognized Loki, though he didn’t understand why the son of the enemy king would help him. Loki didn’t know why, either; all he knew was that something inside him screamed to make sure this man stayed alive.

“Then you must let me go,” the prisoner said. “This war, everything - I have to stop it. I am the only one who can stop my sister.”

“And who’s to say you won’t simply rejoin forces with her, if I let you go?”

“I won’t. I promise you.” The prisoner had set his gaze on Loki, solemn, and swore, “When I am king, I will end our war and make amends to your people. I swear it.”

Loki believed him.

 

Yet the war continued. 

 

Whispers came of a civil war breaking out in the neighboring country. The prince had risen up against his sister, but it was too late; the princess was already upon the capital. The city was submerged in flames, and the guards and servants were slaughtered along the princess’s path like flowers thrown at her feet.

The whispers spoke that the prince had ridden after his sister as soon as he had learned of her plans. The whispers spoke that prince intended to ally and make peace with the enemy kingdom. The whispers spoke that the prince owed his life to a savior to whom he had pledged a lifetime of friendship and brotherhood.

But the whispers also spoke that he had come too late.

The princess came first for the King, and lopped his screaming head off with a swing of her blade. Next she turned to the Queen, and ran her through with the sword.

Finally, she turned to Loki, and she smiled.

“So you’re the one who turned my brother against me,” she said. She picked Loki up by the neck, and though he flailed and clawed at her hand, she only laughed, twirling her sword around.

She choked the life out of him, first, until Loki’s vision grew spotted and darkened. In the blurry distance, he saw a flash of red.

“No!” someone screamed, just as Hela ran her sword through Loki’s body. Tears trailed down Loki’s face, and Hela laughed, cruelly.

“Thor,” Loki tried to call out, because he remembered, now, remembered everything -

He remembered a brother -

He remembered a childhood together -

He remembered a promise in a field, on a sunny day -

And he just wished -

He just wished that his brother did not have to see Loki die before his eyes, again.

 

(It is only in the next lifetime that Loki comforts himself, _‘At least Thor will never remember.’_ ) 


	4. High School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter is explicit and contains consensual, potentially underage sex.

Thor dropped into the seat across from Loki. “You need to _stop.”_

“Stop what?” Loki asked, flipping the page of his textbook. He held a highlighter aloft, the tip of it resting against the corner of his mouth. Every now and then Loki played with it, flicking his tongue out along the cap or swirling the tip around in his mouth.

“That.” Thor scowled, his arms bunching up like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out and ripping the highlighter out of Loki’s hand. “You’re such a - why do you _do_ all this shit?”

Loki tilted his head, his lip quirking up. He twirled the highlighter in his hand, watching the way Thor’s eyes stared at the movement of Loki’s slim and long fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Thor glared. He ticked off with his fingers: “You walk around the house half-naked. You keep jerking off in the living room whenever our parents are away. And you - you -” He trailed off at the third point when Loki rested the tip of the highlighter at the dip of his lower lip.

“Go on.”

Thor’s mouth flapped wordlessly. When Loki smirked, Thor snapped back into a glare and slammed a hand down on the bench table, jostling Loki’s books and papers. “Meet me at the bleachers after school,” he growled.

 

 

Thor shoved Loki up against a wall.

"We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned, even as Loki kissed and lapped at his neck.

“Why resist,” Loki said, voice breathy in a way that he knew Thor would be helpless to resist. “We were always going to end up this way.”

“Fuck.” Thor panted at a particularly harsh nip Loki gave at the edge of his jaw. “You’re my _stepbrother.”_

“You’re boring me. If you won’t fuck me, then I’ll find someone else who--”

Thor smashed his lips into Loki’s. He hauled Loki up further against the wall, and Loki wrapped his legs around Thor’s hips with a contented hum.

Moments later, Thor broke away, his lips wet and bruised. “You’ll let me?” he asked hoarsely, eyes wide and dilated. “You’ll let me fuck you?”

“Yes.” Loki grinned, teeth sharp. He leaned forward and murmured into Thor’s ear, “I fingered myself this morning, thinking of you. Been wet and loose all day.”

Thor nearly tore open his jeans with how quickly he opened them; Loki shook with laughter and set his feet down so he could lower his own with practiced ease. When Thor hauled his legs back up again, it was with bare thigh to bare thigh. “I can see it,” Thor said, amazed; he dipped finger to Loki’s slick hole and felt the plush give of it.

“Yes. Now put something bigger in there.” Thor complied, grabbing his thick cock and angling it; Loki realized, nearly too late: “Wait. We need a condom--”

Thor whined, his head dipping down and resting against Loki’s collarbone. “I’m clean. Can’t I just--”

“That’s what they always say,” Loki sneered. “How can you be sure--” But then he cut himself off. After a moment, he continued, soft, cajoling: “Thor. Are you a virgin?”

Thor whined again, “Shut up.” His body shook, his hips twitching and eager to drive into Loki’s body.

“Why?” Loki asked. Thor was beautiful, popular - even in a place like this, he glowed with that magnetic aura which attracted everyone’s gaze. “Surely you’ve had offers before--”

“I don’t know. They weren’t right.” Thor had his face buried to Loki’s chest, so Loki couldn’t see his expression, but he imagined that it was burning with a flush, embarrassed yet honest; Thor continued, “I always felt like - like I was supposed to be waiting for the right person--”

“Oh,” Loki breathed. He wrapped his arms around the back of Thor’s neck, pulling him closer. “I changed my mind,” he whispered against the shell of Thor’s ear. “Fuck me. Now.”

Thor let out a moan. His hips stuttered and pushed forward; Loki felt Thor’s cock spearing him open. Finally. Loki tossed his head back. “Yes,” he hissed, rolling his hips, trying to drive Thor deeper. Finally, he finally had Thor to fill him again, could finally be fucked--

Thor let out a long moan, then; his hips rocked, and stilled, and Thor panted onto Loki’s collarbone.

Loki blinked.

When he felt Thor’s cock twitching, and the wetness seeping out of his hole, Loki groaned and dropped his head to Thor’s shoulder. “Gods _damn_ it.”


	5. Zoo

“Oh my god,” Liz said. _“Oooohh my goooood.”_

Jay blinked; he had just walked into the break room, and upon seeing his coworker staring down at her tablet screen while gripping her face in despair, he paused. “Uh. Something wrong, Liz?”

“It’s _Houdini.”_

 _“No,”_ Jay said, lighting up. “He got out? Again?”

“Look at this.” Liz snatched the tablet and held it up. “Look at this shit. We’ve got his enclosure watched from every angle. I begged my boss to approve the budget for a _nanny cam_ so we could keep an eye on him. So tell me, how the fuck does a twenty-five foot python not only manage to break out of his enclosure, but also slither all the way from the Reptile House to the Safari Zone at the other ass-end of the zoo, without anyone catching him?”

“You can’t stop true love, Liz.” Jay grinned. Liz let out a groan.

“I just don’t get it. Why is Houdini so obsessed with a _lion,_ of all things? Why can’t he just stay in his perfectly comfortable, temperature-controlled, and well-maintained enclosure, and get himself fat on a bunch of mice? Why?”

“Excuse you, Mr Sunshine is so much more than just a lion. He’s, like, 50% of the reason why anyone comes to our zoo.”

“He’s a fucking lion,” Liz yelled, waving an arm. “Who looks at a lion and thinks, ‘wow, he’s a really handsome lion’? Who the fuck comes to the zoo just to check out a lion?”

“The people who wouldn’t come to our reptile house anyway,” Jay said. “Except when they find out we’re the ones who keep taking Mr Sunshine’s snake boyfriend away from him. Did you know that there’s a petition to keep them together?”

“No,” Liz said, aghast. “How many signatures--?”

“Well, it got on tumblr,” Jay said, “and you know how that goes.” He pulled out his phone and started typing. “...Let’s see… looks like it’s at twenty-thousand signatures after... two days.”

 _“No,”_ Liz repeated. Jay flipped his phone around.

“Look.” He pointed at the header image on the petition. “They used that really cute one from, like, three weeks ago.”

The photo showed Mr Sunshine laying on the grass, golden mane shiny and fluffy in the sunlight, with Houdini’s long, unusually green body draped over his mass. They looked like they were cuddling. Houdini liked to rest his head in Mr Sunshine’s mane, and this photo had been taken at just the right moment where Mr Sunshine had started nuzzling Houdini. They looked like they were kissing, if a lion and a python could kiss.

“Oh my fucking god.” Liz groaned. “My boss is going to kill me,” she said, even as she took the phone out of Jay’s hand to add her signature to the list.


	6. Storm

The boy whispered, “Don’t get close to me.”

The man didn’t leave. “Trust me,” he said.

The rain and lightning bent around him, as if the man had a place within the storm. Between the thunder and lightning, the wind and rain, he stood there, one and the same. The howl of the gusts seemed to call his name.

“Who are you?” the boy asked.

The man kneeled, the wet ground squelching beneath his soles. An arc of lightning illuminated his face, flashing over his green eyes.

“You have known me in dozens of lives before,” he said, “and you shall know me for dozens yet to come. You know me, Thor.”

“I don’t,” the boy said. But even as he spoke, the storm petered off, and the boy leaned forward into the man’s waiting arms.


	7. Lost

In the next life, Loki remembered everything as soon as his brain had developed enough to hold thought. He had been a quiet baby, the villagers had said; eerie, with eyes that held too much.

Loki did not care. He had the soul of a god, the wisdom of thousands of years. What were the lives of mortals, to him? The villagers were but dust yet to crumble, ashes yet to burn. They would die and fade into obscurity. Though Loki in his mortal form would also soon perish, he was different: Loki would be reborn. Thor, too - his lover, his brother, his husband, his soulmate - would be out there, waiting for him.

Loki wanted to find him immediately. He was anxious; he had always been by Thor’s side in his first two lives, the ones which mattered. They had grown together, played together, and loved - and perhaps something had gone wrong, in the third life, which had separated them. There were parallels, Loki thought. Jotunheim and Asgard, enemies at war. Hela. The situations changed. The core elements did not.

Where Loki existed, so too must Thor. This was fundamental. Loki believed it, even if he had to wait with anxious and bated breath with every passing year, waiting for Thor to appear in his new life, waiting for the moment in which they reunited. He must be out there, somewhere, Loki believed - but perhaps he would not be here, in this small backwater village.

So Loki set off. He was fourteen when he left the village, and he wandered, alone. He had been a god, after all.

Loki journeyed to villages near and far; he crossed valleys and mountains, and passed through the borders of still-developing city-states. He searched for Thor along the sea and searched for him along the mountaintops, but after ten years, he still had not found him.

Perhaps Thor had yet to be born, Loki thought; in the third life, Thor had been a man while Loki had been a child, after all. Perhaps it was Loki’s time to wait.

But he had already waited a long time.

Loki continued to wander. He had never felt a part of this world, had never felt like there was a home for him on this soil. If there were to be a home, it would be a place where two pairs of feet would tread, one beside the other; a place with a bed fit for two, and a table with chairs that faced each other. There would be a window overlooking the scenery - and it didn’t matter what scenery that would be, as long as he and Thor could gaze upon it together. Whether it be fields of grass, a golden city, or an endless expanse of stars through which they floated, it did not matter - so long as they were together.

Another year passed, and two, and three.

Some lands warred, fierce and bloody; others prospered, throwing great celebrations and welcoming all to join their festivals. Loki found himself in one such land, where the entire city feted the bountiful harvests, beauteous weather, and plentiful trade.

“The Queen has borne his Majesty another son, as well,” a peasant woman said, as Loki traded for a loaf of fresh bread with wild nuts.

“Is that so,” Loki said.

“Aye!” The peasant woman grinned, empty-toothed. “‘Tis their ninth child. The King adores the Queen dearly; why, come next year, we might be seeing the tenth!”

“Hm,” Loki acknowledged.

The peasant woman sighed. “If only I were half as young and twice as pretty. There isn’t a woman in this city who doesn’t dream of having the attentions of our golden-haired king for even a day.”

Loki set down the bread. “Oh?” he said.

“Aye.” The woman sighed again. “It was such a romantic tale, after all. Prince Thor had rescued a maiden by a riverbed and they had fallen instantly in love. The Prince fought his father for the right to marry the maiden, who was only a common girl, you see - and the prince had risked everything for her. A true sign of his devotion. He had said that in all his life, he would only ever love her; his soul was meant for hers, and no one else could compare. He had proved his devotion so thoroughly that the late King finally approved their union, and our now-King and Queen have been loyal and in love with each other ever since.” The woman chuckled. “Why, it’s been fifteen years already and their passion hasn’t waned in the slightest! The King never even looks at another woman because he loves the Queen so. Can you imagine what it must be like to experience such a love? It must be the greatest--”

The woman then paused; she looked at Loki.

“Are you well, sir?” she asked. “You look--”

Loki did not let her finish. He stormed away, black cloak billowing around him; he raced to the castle, unheeding of the world around him, unheeding of the guards and knights that wished to stop him. He ran and ran and ran, boots cracking against the cobblestone beneath his feet, his breath a rush between the pounding of his own heart.

He pushed his way into the castle and he ran and ran, until a sight caught his eye -

Thor, brilliant and happy, laughing under the sunlight.

Golden-haired children around him, playing and running. A newborn babe in Thor’s lap, almost impossibly small against his bulk.

A woman.

She leaned over Thor’s shoulder; Thor grinned up at her. He raised his face to kiss her, square on the mouth.

Thor was happy. Utterly and completely so. Happy even without Loki.

This was the last image Loki saw. A sword ran through his heart; the metal was not nearly as painful as what had come before.


	8. Bracelet

“Hold out your hand,” Thor said. Loki gave him a look, but as requested, he removed one of his hands from the book he was reading and held it out. Thor, sitting beside him, took his hand, and around Loki’s wrist he tied a bracelet.

It was a simple thing of string and small white flowers. It was nothing like the sharp and cutting black that Loki trended towards, or the sleek deep greens, either. This was soft. Sentimental. There was nothing about it that seemed like it would fit Loki.

“I just felt like I wanted to make this for you,” Thor said, rubbing a thumb over the pulse of Loki’s wrist.

Loki began to weep.

Thor made a noise of surprise; he gathered Loki in his arms, and he rubbed comforting circles on his Loki’s trembling back. Loki buried his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, sobbing, and no matter how Thor comforted, shushed, and inquired as to what was wrong, Loki couldn’t respond.

Thor never remembered. Not like Loki did. He did not know the millennia of years they had spent together; he did not know the times they had loved and hated, betrayed and reunited.

He did not remember the times they had killed each other. He did not remember the times they had saved each other.

He did not remember the times where they had sworn to be together forever.

The flower bracelet hung delicately on Loki’s wrist. Loki touched it with the barest brush of his fingers, as if afraid that at any moment it would crumble to dust.

Maybe, Loki wondered -

Even if Thor never remembered, maybe a part of him inside still yearned for Loki.

Maybe a part of him still carried the memories of their lives together, and if Loki were to trace his fingers along the nicks and grooves of Thor’s soul, then perhaps upon it Loki would find a mark that he himself had carved.


	9. Sweet

This was a mistake, Loki thought.

He looked down at the enormous sundae the waiter had just delivered. It was, as the establishment called it, the ‘extra’ size: the glass was as tall as a head, and as wide as one. Loki counted at least twelve scoops of ice cream inside, and a menagerie of whipped cream, fruits, chocolate, nuts, fudge, caramel, and other toppings perched over the mountain.

Loki loved sweets. He could devour anything if it had enough sugar. This, however, was a bit too much, even for him.

Well, Loki thought as he raised his spoon and dug in, at least if he died of a sugar overdose, he would be dying _happy_ for once.

He managed a good three scoops and an eighth of the whipped cream before his stomach began turning with queasiness. Quiet, Loki hissed at it, because if there was any way he was going to go, it would be one of two ways: stuffed full of Thor’s cock or stuffed full of ice cream. And since Thor wasn’t around--

Loki shoved another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Green mint chocolate chip, his favorite.

Loki had been seated in the establishment’s outdoor seating. It was a wonderful and slightly breezy spring day: the trees rustled, birds sang, and young couples milled about the area, nauseously in love. A group of teenagers chattered at the other end of the square.

Some of the passerby giggled as they saw Loki. It was apparently quite an image for an older gentleman like him to be seated outside a diner, eating a horrifically enormous sundae, all by himself. It was amusing enough that several teenagers and young adults took out their phones and photographed him with what they thought was enough discretion that he wouldn’t notice. Perhaps in two hours Loki would be on the front page of reddit. “Sad old man eating ice cream by himself,” the post would say. “Treat your elderly better so they don’t end up like him :(.” Loki didn’t give a shit. He was past shame. If he could have his ass eaten by his brother in front of an entire assembly of aliens, he could eat a damn sundae by himself.

He was just starting on the fifth scoop when one of the teenagers broke away from the group and came up to him. Loki didn’t bother to raise his eyes until the teenager slid into the seat across him him. When Loki did, he nearly choked.

“Hey,” Thor said, all smiles; he was young, hair short and fluffy around his ears, cheeks plump and rosy. “You look like you’re having a tough time. Want some help with that?”

“Are you asking because you want a free meal?” Loki asked, but he flagged a waiter all the same and had another spoon brought. Thor grinned beatifically, looking particularly glowy in the sunlight.

“My name is Loki,” Loki offered, because he was damn well going to make sure Thor knew him by name and not as ‘that one old man I took pity on and ate ice cream with on a nice spring day’.

“I’m Thor,” Thor said. “Are you married?”

Loki nearly choked.

Across the way, Thor’s friends shook their heads. One of them said, a little too loudly, “He doesn’t even _like_ sweets!”


	10. Youth

Thor had, apparently, run off again. “My mischievous little boy,” Frigga said with a sigh, though the corners of her lips were raised. “Could you assist in finding your little brother, dear?”

“Of course, mother,” Loki said. He stood from his chair; it was morning, and they had been in the middle of a lesson. Now that Loki had turned twelve, Frigga had deemed it time for him to learn to harness the deeper and more complex aspects of seidr, and she personally tended to him herself.

Loki was the only person in the palace who knew where Thor could be found at any given moment. The servants had long since learned that whenever the younger prince had gone missing, it was best to seek out the eldest prince first.

Thor was where he always was: in a secluded enclave of the gardens, hidden by the palace walls. He lay on a warm spot of grass, the sun shining brightly over his small face and golden hair. Loki rustled his way toward Thor in the shape of a snake, and Thor shrieked in delight upon noticing him.

“Loki!” Thor cried, reaching his chubby hands out toward Loki. Loki shifted back before Thor could pick him up, and Thor, in response, flung his entire body at his older brother. They fell back upon the grass, Loki letting out a soft grunt from the impact. Thor giggled.

“Thor,” Loki said, grasping Thor’s hair and tugging a little in admonishment. “You should be with your tutors, not skipping your lessons.”

“But they’re boring,” Thor whined, widening his watery eyes. “I just wanna play with you, Loki.”

“And you can. After you’re done with your lessons.”

“Noooooo.” Thor clung his arms tightly around Loki. “Don’t wanna.”

Loki sighed. He let his head fall back; it was a peaceful day where the clouds passed above like balls of cotton, casting cool shadows along their trails. “I fear for Asgard’s future if their King-to-be refuses to learn his writing and arithmetic,” he said. “We don’t want a fool for a king, do we?”

“Then why don’t you be king?” Thor pouted.

“Oh, my dear little brother.” Loki tweaked Thor’s nose, making the young boy swat playfully at the attacking hand. “I’ve already told you that I cannot be King of Asgard. Father would never allow it.” He ran his hand through Thor’s hair, ruffling it. “The one born to the throne of Asgard is you, Thor. Not I.”

“That’s stupid,” Thor said. “We’re brothers.”

“Yes,” Loki said. He hugged Thor. “We’re brothers. And I will always love you. And that is why I wish for you to grow clever as well as strong; that way, any challenges you face on the throne will be ones you are well-equipped to conquer.”

Thor hugged Loki back. He contemplated this for a moment; then he said, “We can both be king. You’ll be clever and I’ll be strong. We can do it together.”

Loki chuckled. “We cannot both ascend the throne,” he said, but Thor puffed up, cheeks red and little face pinched with indignation.

“Yes we can! We can be like Mother and Father!”

“You mean King and Queen?” Surprise colored Loki’s voice; he turned it into a laugh. “My sweet little brother, you do not even know what that means.”

“Yes I do,” Thor said. “It means you’ll be beside me and you’ll help me and I’ll help you and we’ll rule Asgard together.”

“It also means we must be married,” Loki said. “Do you know what marriage is?”

Thor scowled. “I’m not a baby. I’ve heard of it.”

“Marriage is a vow,” Loki explained, indulgent. “It is a promise between two people to tie themselves together. Their fortunes are united, and their fates woven together by the Norns. Like our mother and father, they swear to be loyal to each other and to be beside each other for the rest of their lives. Some may vow to love only each other, as well; that no matter what circumstance may pass, and no matter what ills or fortunes may come, they will weather the future together and forever love each other until the end of time.”

Thor listened to Loki’s explanation quietly. When Loki was done, Thor remained in contemplative silence. After a while, he grabbed Loki’s hand with his small, soft one.

“Then aren’t we already married?” Thor said.

Loki found himself laughing, even as he blinked away tears. “Perhaps,” he said. “But if you wish me to marry you officially, then you’d best ask me when you’re a thousand years older.”


	11. Signs

It must be some sort of cosmic joke. Of course Thor would come far too late. Of course he would arrive in this situation. Loki was alive, but only just: he bled out on the floor of his healer’s den from a wound to the stomach. He only had a few breaths left in him, and of course Thor would show up now.

“Who could have done this?” Loki heard him say from the outside. “The entire village...”

“My prince, there is a survivor,” came Heimdall’s voice. The two of them appeared at the doorway, casting shadows over Loki’s fading vision.

“The Marauders,” Thor said, noticing the dead bodies Loki had felled in the struggle. When Thor’s gaze fell on Loki, he quickly stepped forward and kneeled by Loki’s side. His brows furrowed. “This man--”

“He does not have much longer to live.”

Loki coughed, choking on his own blood and on the curses he wished to fling Heimdall’s way. Instead he used his energy to turn Thor’s way, meeting the man’s dark and furious eyes.

“It must have been Hela. She knew we would come here.” Thor laid a hand on Loki’s shoulder in comfort. He murmured, “I am so sorry for what my sister has done. I will find her, and I will avenge your people. She shall not go unpunished for her crimes.”

“My prince,” Heimdall interjected. “The signs--”

“She has them,” Thor said. He turned to Heimdall. “Else why come here, if not to snatch them from beneath our very fingers. We must seek her out.”

“No,” Loki coughed out, because of course the idiot would fall into Hela’s trap. He used every bit of his energy to wring the words from his lungs: “Don’t.”

“Do not fret. I swore that I shall bring you vengeance, and I shall,” Thor said, squeezing Loki’s shoulder.

“No.” Loki scowled. This was what he was reduced to: a hapless death meant to fuel Thor’s quest for vengeance? A motive for Thor to play the hero? Loki refused. He spat out blood, and then he grinned, white teeth dyed red. “The signs are here,” he said, and finally raised his hand from his stomach, letting the blood spill out onto the dirt and weave the next letters of the prophecy.


	12. Respite

“I’ll build us a cabin,” Thor says. “By a lake.”

“You’re _joking_ ,” Loki says, appalled.

Thor’s shoulders quiver. He’s biting on his lip, restraining a laugh. “The look on your face. Of course not. You want a palace. A five-star suite. Pearl walls and gold toilet seats.”

“Silk sheets, a penthouse, and windows overlooking the city,” Loki says. “So that I may look down on others, as is my place.”

“Of course.”

They wait in silence. The air hums around them.

“Is that the kind of life you want?” Loki asks. “To live in a forest by a lake?”

“It’s peaceful,” Thor says. “Romantic. You build your own house, build your own furniture. Could go fishing. Chop some wood. When you need supplies, you drive a few hours into town, and drive back with enough groceries to last a few weeks. Get to spend your days without a care for the world.”

“That sounds dreadful.”

“It does.” The corners of Thor’s mouth flash up in a quick grin. “But for me - anywhere is fine. Especially with you.”

That makes Loki pause for a beat. “Even here?” he says.

“Even here,” Thor says.


	13. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: fic contains cheating/infidelity/bad drunk decisions.

Thor shows him the ring through a photo on his phone. “The band is made of meteorite. I made it myself - carved it and everything.”

“How delightful.” Loki bares his teeth in a way that could be a smile. “She’ll _love_ it.” 

“I believe so.” Thor chuckles and swipes to the next photo. His phone screen is bright in the dim lighting of the bar - glaringly so, in fact. It’s ruining Loki’s eyes. Loki sets a hand over Thor’s phone screen and pushes the phone down.

“But we’re not here to talk about her,” Loki says, voice low.

Thor doesn’t notice - or, he pretends not to notice. He knocks back his drink and doesn’t react to Loki leaning into his space until Loki is close enough to whisper into Thor’s ear.

“Tell me, Thor.” Loki’s voice is sultry. Just the right notes of dark and full of breath that he knows Thor will find irresistible. “When does she get back from her trip?”

Thor swallows. He pretends it’s from his drink. “The day after tomorrow,” he answers.

Loki sets a hand on Thor’s arm. “Then--”

“No.” Thor tries to shift from Loki’s grasp, face darkening. “I’m not - I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Loki says, and he widens his eyes. He looks hurt and small in the bar light. Vulnerable. “I just want to chat. She wouldn’t mind if I stayed at your place tonight, would she?”

“A chat,” Thor says.

“Yes. Just talking. That’s alright, isn’t it?” Loki adjusts his grip on Thor’s arm, lets the warmth of his hand seep in past the jacket. “I just want to get to know you better, that’s all.”

Thor looks right into Loki’s eyes, but he is blind to anything but the innocent look Loki gives him.

“Alright,” Thor says.

It’s easy, after that.

They keep drinking in Thor’s apartment. Thor breaks out some beers and a bottle of whiskey for Loki. They start off sitting around a table, and gradually make their way onto opposite sides of a sofa. Loki plies Thor with stories that make Thor guffaw with laughter, and Thor loosens up, bit by bit.

By the end of the night, Loki and Thor are sitting side by side, cuddled up against each other. Loki rests his head on Thor’s shoulder, and Thor has a hand on Loki’s back, his thumb rubbing comforting circles.

All it takes, from there, is to look up at Thor with watery eyes. A wordless plea that Thor always answers.

This time is no different.

(When Thor is asleep, Loki reaches across the bed for Thor’s phone. He unlocks it using the code he had spied over Thor’s shoulder, and he sends a simple text.

Jane should arrive back in the morning, just in time to watch Thor fuck Loki over the kitchen counter.)


	14. Sons

When Frieda bore her sons, she bore them together. Her sons were inseparable from the very beginning: the first thing Luke did when he was born was reach out to Theodore, and even though neither of them could see, they held on to each other with what little strength their newborn bodies could find.

Frieda learned quickly that Luke was a needy thing; the second Theodore left his sight, Luke wailed as if there was no tomorrow. Infants didn’t begin to learn object permanence until they were a year old; if something couldn’t be seen, it was gone and no longer existed. So every time Luke wailed, it pierced Frieda’s heart. Her baby thought his brother was gone forever.

Perhaps it was because of this that she indulged her boys and kept them together for so long. Theodore was naturally curious, and more agreeable to short separation, but even he began to grow anxious the longer he was kept from Luke. So what was Frieda to do, except to let them stay together?

They’re four years old, now, and Frieda found them cuddling on the carpet, their backs propped up against a small mountain of pillows and cushions. Theodore rested his head on Luke’s shoulder and chest while Luke read a book aloud, his lovely little voice unusually clear for his age.

“...Thor spun his mighty hammer to strike down the giant as he proclaimed, ‘I say thee nay! Are we not warriors born? Are we not Asgardians all? Are we not akin to gods? Not for such as we the pale cast of surrender! Whilst we live… we fight!'”

“Sounds stupid,” Theodore mumbled, his mouth muffled against Luke’s shirt.

Luke’s lips tugged up. He bent his head to whisper something to Theodore, and the two boys had a hushed conversation that ended with both of them giggling together.

“You stop that, Lukey,” Theodore said. He shoved a hand against Luke’s face, grinning.

Luke stuck out his tongue. “Make me, ‘Dore.”

“Boys,” Frieda said, and her twin children’s heads snapped up at once. Their faces lit up simultaneously with joy.

“Mom!”

“Mama!”

Frieda laughed, both of her sons colliding against her legs in their haste to hug her. She ruffled the tops of their heads, one golden blond and one dark black, and smiled down at her two perfect children.

Even if her two sons loved each other more than anything, she was glad that they had room in their hearts to love her just as much.


	15. Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: explicit fic, also contains a whiff of attempted noncon that is literally cut off at the head

In the lives where Loki cannot find Thor, he spends much of his time alone.

Not always physically. Sometimes he surrounds himself with people, drinking his life away with lavish parties and games as if to drown out the vile ache that he has wrought in himself. Sometimes he spends the scraps of his years redeeming his past and the evils that he has committed. He has taken in misguided children and taught them the ways to survive, and he has provided aid to people who have not yet found the strength to aid themselves. Loki has not always been good. Some days he remembers this more than most.

In this life, Loki finds himself on Alfheim. He was born to a merchant’s family, and Loki learned quickly the duties expected of him. He manages accounts, double-checks numbers, and curries favor with trade partners. As he grows, he attracts the interest of several young ladies and men alike. He’s tempted, as he is in every life, to pretend he is a normal person: one who is innocent and flush with excitement for young, new love; one who is uncertain of the future and anxious to find his path in life. But Loki is not that person anymore. He has left that person behind several dozen lifetimes ago.

The person he is now knows that in all his lives, no matter how many people he takes to his bed and how many he believes he may be able to love, none will be able to conquer and tend to his heart and body as Thor does.

So, when Loki reaches twenty-five years of age, he is still a virgin when his father bids him to Vanaheim on a trade mission.

If he had known what would happen, he would have fucked someone years ago. It’s too late for such regrets now, though, Loki muses. He watches with a woozy head as the witches finish tying off his binds. He’s fairly certain that the head wound gave him a concussion.

The witches haul Loki off into the forest, leaving behind his wagon along with all of his goods. Great, Loki thinks; not only will he possibly lose his life, he’ll also lose all of his goods and profits, too.

“A fine virgin,” one of the witches croons.

“Perfect for the spell.”

“Perfect for a lure.”

“If I may,” Loki interjects, “depending on the parameters of your working, I may not, ah, actually be virgin enough for this to work. You see, I have been fucked before, and have imagined it multiple times, in many ways. My soul is, frankly, a cesspool of debauchery and--”

“You’ve never even been kissed,” one of the witches says, and the rest titter.

“But in my heart, I have been kissed many times,” Loki insists. The witches give a collective sigh.

“Spoken like a true virgin,” they say, with relish.

They bring him to a glade and leave him tied up on a large tree stump. The witches then depart, one by one, melting into the shadows of the forest.

Loki is not fool enough to believe that they have actually left him here unattended, but he similarly is unwilling to simply lie back and accept whatever fate awaits him. So he struggles, trying to drag his own legs up toward his hands so he can grab the knife he keeps in his boot.

By the time he finally manages, it’s too late. He hears the clopping of hooves and nearly freezes.

“Norns, no,” Loki breathes, aghast, and hastens his fingers, flipping the knife and sliding it against the ropes. It’s slow work, too slow now that he does not have years of trained muscle or powerful magic in his body.

The unicorn approaches, large and ghastly. The Midgardians believed these beasts to be pure, gentle things, ones attracted to virgins for the simplicity of companionship. In reality, unicorns were hulking things, demonic horse-shaped creatures whose tastes for virgins were, well, not as pure as one would hope.

Cold sweat starts to run down Loki’s face as he desperately saws at the ropes. “Do not take a single step closer, you wretched beast. I am not a virgin, and if you try to stick your prick in me, I’ll--”

But before Loki can finish his tirade, a hammer smashes against the beast’s face and throws the beast to the ground.

“Aha! Yet another foul creature felled by the mighty Thor!” Thor saunters into the glade, a wide grin on his face. He wears the clothing of an adventurer, practical leathers and a tunic, and has a sword strapped to his back. His long blond hair is swept back into a ponytail, and Loki has never seen him look so beautiful. “And yet another fair maiden rescued from certain--” Thor looks down at Loki laying on the tree stump and freezes. His mouth drops open, brow furrowing in confusion. “Um?”

Loki’s entire body relaxes at the sight of him. “Not quite a maiden, but perhaps still fair,” Loki says, lightly enough to be a joke. He tilts his head and smiles. “Would you be so kind as to free me, o brave adventurer?”

“I, uh.” Thor stares at him, mouth still agape and brow furrowed. “I thought--that’s a unicorn,” he says, pointing at the felled beast’s carcass.

Loki’s smile starts to drop. “Truly. I couldn’t have guessed.”

“Unicorns only come after virgins.” At this, Thor breaks into a grin, and he laughs, perhaps a touch nervously. “Why, how can you - a man like you - I expected a woman!”

The words turn Loki’s mood sour. “How unfortunate for you that you found a virgin man instead,” he snaps. He resumes cutting himself free from the binds on his own; foolish of him to think that Thor would actually be attracted to him in this life.

“No, wait.” Thor steps closer, hands raised, and gentles Loki’s movements. “Allow me.” He takes the knife and easily cuts the ropes apart. He then hesitates, then sets the knife down so he may rub comfortingly at both of Loki’s wrists, which have turned red and chafed from the binds. “I only did not expect to find a man so beautiful,” he says, haltingly, eyes flicking up to Loki’s as if gauging his reaction. “Surely you have had the - opportunity, before.”

“None that have been enticing enough,” Loki says, having been soothed by Thor’s words. He gazes back with half-lidded eyes, the long line of his white neck slightly bared. “I would only give myself to those who have earned the right to touch me, and thus far, everyone I have met has been - lacking.”

“What a proud thing you are,” Thor says, looking up at Loki in amazement. “What would one have to do to earn your regard?”

Loki answers with a slow smile, one which causes a flush to rise on Thor’s cheeks. He leans closer, murmuring to Thor’s ear, “Allow me to reward you for saving me, adventurer. I am Loki, son of the merchant Alfbjorn; I can reward you with gold to fill your pockets, or goods to line your house with luxury. Or…” He comes ever closer, lips skimming against Thor’s furred cheek. “I can reward you with the virginity you’ve just rescued.”

Thor, of course, does not disappoint. He tackles Loki back onto the tree stump, swallowing Loki’s laughter with deep kisses. They tear open each other’s clothes, and Thor runs his callused hands down Loki’s pale, sensitive skin. Neither of them carry oil, so Thor buries his head between Loki’s thighs and slicks him open with his own mouth; Loki’s moans and cries are so loud that a flock of birds startle from the trees. By the time Thor finally buries himself in Loki, the both of them are frantic. Thor thrusts, rapid and deep, watching Loki come undone beneath him.

“Your body’s tighter than anything,” he says, “but gods, the way you move, the way you take me - I would have thought you’d done this before.”

“Perhaps I was made for your cock,” Loki answers, and that is what makes Thor groan and bury himself to the hilt, hips twitching as he unloads within Loki.

By the time the witches return, evidence of their several rounds is strewn all over the clearing, and Loki is completely, absolutely, in no uncertain way, no longer a virgin.

“Curse you!” the last witch says as Thor fights her off half-naked, swinging his sword with one hand and holding his tunic up to his lower half with the other. Loki, watching idly while kicking his feet on the tree stump, smiles and wiggles his fingers. 


	16. Book

There is a book on display in the Smithsonian.

‘Approximately 5th CE,’ the plaque says. The book is leather-bound, intricate Norse spirals rendered on the cover. It looks new, though the pages inside are yellow and faded.

Visitors to the museum have nicknamed it ‘The Immortal’s Diary’. No one knows what the words inside the diary mean. They are written in an ancient, strange script, one similar in shape to Nordic runes, yet wholly different at the same time. Only a few words have been understood: Thor. Odin. Frigga. The rest of the script cannot be deciphered.

What is unusual about this book is that while its first entry has been dated to the book’s creation in the 5th century, its most recent entry appears to have been written with a fountain pen, its ink dated to the 19th century. All other entries of the book similarly are written with different mediums from various points of history: one entry was penned using a rare ink with a pigment that became unavailable after the 12th century. Yet all entries seem to have been written with the exact same handwriting in this language that no one else could understand.

Some theorists suggest that the book belongs to a pagan cult which has created a secret language to pass down their culture. Others say that it may be nothing more than a prank or a writing exercise. Yet the prevailing theory is that this is the diary of an immortal or a time-traveler. Evidence, the proponents of this theory claim, lies in the fact that the entries are spaced out with decades or centuries in between despite being written by seemingly the same person.

The book had been found in the ruins of a townhouse in England after the second world war. The townhouse had belonged to a man named Loic Odell, of whom there are very few records other than his birth in 1918. He seemed to have lived a solitary life.

The book has become a source of inspiration and wonder in pop culture across the globe. Notable piece of media inspired by the book include the critically-acclaimed movie _The Time-Traveler’s Journal_ (2004) directed by Agatha M., Queen’s hit song “Until Next Time” (1983), and the book series _A Hundred Lives_ (2018-) written by L. Laufeyson.


	17. Bedside

“Pardon me.”

“Oh! Sorry. I’ll just--”

“Not a problem. Just need to change this bag. Are you--?”

“I’m, uh, just visiting.”

“Related?”

“Not… exactly. He saved my life. The, uh, the doctor said--”

“Ohhh. You’re him. Got it. We don’t usually allow this, but, well. He did save your life. And it doesn’t seem like the man has anyone else coming around.”

“Right.”

“Seems alone, the poor man. Had you ever met him before?”

“No, actually. Not that I can recall. But, um, he did…”

“He did?”

“He - before he pushed me out of the way, he called my name. So maybe we’d met before. I don’t know. I just… I keep staring at his face, trying to remember. He looks familiar, but I… I just can’t quite remember from where.”

“An old school friend, maybe?”

“No. From somewhere further back. But I guess - I might never find out until he wakes up.”

“Of course.”

“He will wake up, right?”

“That’s…”

“I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have asked, I know. It’s alright if I visit him, though?”

“Yes. We’re still monitoring his situation and… if there are any improvements, well. Someone might let you know. No promises.”

“That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Take care.”

“You too.”

_..._

“...Hey. I don’t know if you can hear me, but… I hope you can. Otherwise I’ve just been talking to myself these past couple of weeks. Not much has changed since I last saw you. It’s October 8th. Weather’s getting a little chillier…”


	18. Simple

“It doesn’t have to be so complicated.” Thor picked up a rock and tossed it across the lake. Loki watched the rock skip over the water surface, one, two, three, four times, before it sank into the depths.

“Doesn’t it?” He sat a small distance away from Thor on the lakeside, the tall grass brushing against his legs and the book he held on his lap. “I’m the son of the mayor. You’re a hunter’s boy.”

“So what?”

“People won’t allow it.”

“They don’t have to allow it,” Thor said calmly. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I’ll still love you either way.”


	19. Exile

There is a madman living in the mountains.

The council said he had been banished many moons ago for his violence and his rage. The madman tried to slaughter his own kin, screaming that he was a god, that he was a prince, that he was nothing like the monsters surrounding him. It was only by the mercy of the elder that he was not killed. Instead, he was sent to live amongst Jotunheim’s snowy peaks, eking out a life alone in the bitter and empty cold.

When the warriors climb up the mountains to the cave where the madman lives, they find not the savage and enraged Jotun they had expected. Instead, they see a small Aesir-shaped man wrapped in furs. He languidly carves knives out of bone and ice, not deigning to look up at the warriors standing at the entrance to the cave. The sharp scrape of bone and ice echoes from the cavern, combining with the howl of wind to send chills down the warriors’ spines.

“Be you Loptr the Mad?” asks a warrior.

“My name is Loki,” the Aesir-shaped creature says, voice lilting with an unusual accent. It is not speaking the language of the Jotnar, the tongue of shifting ice and sliding glacier. No. It speaks the same as honey and wheat and bloodshed.

“Loki the Mad,” the warrior says.

The madman chuckles, his mouth a sharp grin. “At your service.”  He looks up. His eyes are green and eerie and catch too much light. “Whatever can I do to assist you?”

The warrior says, “Asgard has invaded Jotunheim. You are needed to fight.”

“Me?” The madman tosses his head back and laughs. The sound rattles against the walls. “Why would I defend Jotunheim from Asgard?”

The madman is exactly as the elder had said: a strange man driven by hatred for himself and for all of Jotunheim. Yet there is one more thing the elder said would bring this man to heel.

“The prince of Asgard slaughters his way through our people,” the warrior says, reciting the elder’s words. “He can only be brought down by his match.”

This makes the madman pause. He looks at the warrior with his piercing green eyes, a smile on his face. “Flattery,” he says. “Utterly transparent. You’re desperate for a seidrmadr. Someone who can take down Asgard’s prince without being crushed in the face.”

“Will you join us?” the warrior asks.

“Tell me,” the madman says, “the name of this prince of Asgard.”

The warrior pauses for a moment. “Baldr. Son of Odin.”

The madman smiles.

In the next instant, the knives around him land in the warriors’ bodies. They fall to the ground and sink into the snow, becoming one with the ice from which they were born.

“Not interested,” the madman says. The wind howls outside his cave, and he is once again alone. The sound of ice scraping on bone echoes from the cavern.


	20. Antiquarian

At 2 in the morning, Loki woke to the sound of frantic pounding at his door. He stomped downstairs, a shawl thrown over his shoulders, and pulled open the door to find the usual collection of gangly teenagers standing at his porch.

“Mr Friggason, there’s a thing chasing us and it’s eating people and we don’t know how to--”

“It’s a wendigo,” Loki snarled. “Set it on fire.” He slammed the door shut and stomped back upstairs to his bed.

Six hours later, Loki rose to start his day. He showered, dressed, watered his plants, fed his cat, and went downstairs to continue his work.

The first floor of Loki’s townhouse was lined with tall bookshelves stacked with antique books. Loki collected and transcribed ancient tomes from around the world as both his hobby and his career. He was well-known as a premier expert in the world of antiquities, but as far as his reputation in this small town of Nowhere, Montana went, he was just another crazed shut-in who spent too much time with books. And he was fine with that.

If only the resident supernatural-fighting teenagers had gotten the memo.

“There should be some adult authority you should report this to,” Loki said, watching in faint horror as the teenagers dragged a werewolf over his $2000 persian carpet. “Really? Right on top of my carpet?”

“Sorry, Mr Friggason,” Jess said.

Loki didn’t even know how he had gotten embroiled in this. Here he was, minding his own business in a small town where seemingly nothing happened, when teenagers started knocking at his door and asking if he knew anything about ghouls or witches or vampires from the ancient books he just so happened to collect. He did know quite a bit, actually, but he had been a fool to share that knowledge with these teenagers. Now they clung to him like burrs and cried for his help every time they encountered something even mildly threatening, which frankly happened far too often.

“Are there not monster hunters who could do this for you?” he asked, eyeing the way the teenagers expertly set up the ritual circle around the werewolf sprawled on Loki’s carpet. “Surely matters such as this are best left to those old enough to drink the trauma away, at least?”

Scott shrugged. “We can handle it.”

“Hunters only want to kill the supes,” Jess said. “We want to help them.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Do-gooders. “As you will,” he said, and pointed at the carpet. “I expect it to be completely free of stains. Use cold water.”

“Yes, sir,” the teenagers called out to Loki’s retreating back.

Honestly, Loki had no idea why he put up with them. These teenagers only brought trouble. They kept disturbing him at odd hours the night, asked him for obscure pieces of information that took hours to find, trekked blood and creature guts into his living room, and even accidentally overwatered his favorite succulents while he was away on a business trip. They were absolutely no good, and the next time they asked for his help, Loki decided, he was absolutely, positively, certainly going to tell them--

“Mr Friggason!” Jess cried the moment Loki opened the door. “There’s this guy who tried to help us fight the wendigo nest, he got hurt--”

“Ah, hmm,” Loki said, staring at the bulky blond-haired man that the teenagers struggled to carry between them. “Yes. Come inside. Set him down - over here, on the couch.”

“On the couch?” Jake whispered. “But you never let us touch the couch.”

“Hurry up,” Loki said sharply, and the teenagers scrambled under his orders.

They rolled the man onto the couch. He had a strong brow, chiseled nose, long-lashed eyes - but what was even the point of describing him. Loki knew full and well this was Thor, and that alone should evoke in anyone a staggering image of beauty. What was important were the gashes ripped into Thor’s stomach which unfortunately tore apart his rippling abdomen. Tragic. A true crime against nature.

“Fetch some towels, bandages and a tub of hot water,” Loki ordered one of the teenagers. The boy peeled away obediently; all of them had been around Loki’s house enough to know where everything was. “So he was attacked by the wendigo, was he.” Loki patted Thor’s shoulder. And his arm. “Hmm. Quite unfortunate.”

“Are you feeling him up,” Jess said.

“Oh my god, Mr Friggason thinks he’s hot,” Scott muttered.

Jake frowned, watching Loki cut the T-shirt away from Thor’s chest. “No wonder this guy got the couch. We usually have to lay down on the floor.”

 


	21. Peach Tree

In the lands of Asgardia, it was tradition to plant a tree to celebrate the birth of a son. When Thor, firstborn of the Odin-King came into the world, the gardeners planted the pit of the finest peach fruit in the garden. The gardeners watered and tended to the peach sapling as carefully as the wetnurses and nannies cared for the crown prince himself. By the end of the first year, the crown prince proved himself to be a bubbly and vivacious little babe, and his birth sapling too grew green and healthy.

The Queen was fond of gathering her son in her arms and taking him for walks along the garden. She would stop by the peach sapling and show her son the fine green leaves. When her son grabbed at the branches, she carefully pried them from his fingers. “Treat this tree well,” she told him. “This is your birth tree. It is connected to you.”

As Thor grew older, the Queen continued to take him for walks, and they visited the tree several more times. The repeated visits imprinted on Thor the importance of this particular tree, and one day, when he was three years old, Thor looked up at the towering shade of the branches and reached out to put a chubby hand on the smooth bark. “Mine?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Queen said, smiling, but the person Thor asked wasn’t her.

The peach tree began bearing fruit in its fourth year. It was a stingy tree, the gardeners said; it only produced a single peach. But it was a perfect one, round and beautiful and blushing red, and when Thor bit into it, the fruit trailed juices down his childish chin. It was the sweetest and most delicious fruit in the entire kingdom, Thor exclaimed, and the King and Queen were both pleased.

In the following years, the peach tree continued to bear little fruit, but always perfect ones. To Thor, they were like ambrosia itself, the nectar of the gods. Yet to any who dared to steal a piece of the peach tree’s fruit, the taste was like ash and poison, and made one want to retch.

When Thor was fifteen, he accompanied one of his marriage candidates to the gardens. She was the daughter of an esteemed noble in the kingdom, one of Odin-King’s favored families. Thor brought her under the shade of the peach tree, which had now grown tall, its branches spread wide and proud, and reached up to grab one of the fruits hanging from the branch. He split the peach and offered half to the noble girl in symbol of their union. The peach tree was a part of him, after all, and thus he offered half of himself to the girl. Yet when the girl bit into the peach fruit, which Thor knew to be as sweet as honey, she cried and spit the fruit onto the ground as if it were the most vile thing she had ever tasted.

It was a slap in the face to both Thor and to his birth tree. Thor stormed to his father and said that he refused to marry a woman who would spit the fruit of the peach tree to the ground, and Odin-King agreed. It was ill-fortune to reject his birth tree’s gift. Thus, a trial was set for every prospective wife-to-be of the Crown Prince: she must take a bite of a peach from the prince’s birth tree, and whosoever found it sweet shall be worthy to be the prince’s wife.

As the years passed and Thor matured into a man, every eligible noblewoman in the Kingdom attempted this challenge, yet every single one failed. The taste of the peach was too venomous for anyone to bear. Princesses from other kingdoms came from far and wide to test their luck, yet they, too, could not swallow the flesh of this peach, which seemed to rot upon their tongues.

By the time Thor reached twenty years of age, every noblewoman and every princess had failed the test - so Thor set out on a quest to find a common woman who could be his match. He journeyed out from the castle and searched far and wide, and across his many adventures, he finally encountered a woman who had claimed his heart. Though she was a common woman, she had stars in her eyes, and her compassion and thirst for knowledge knew no bounds.

Thor brought her back to the castle with high hopes and presented her to the court. Odin-King was enraged that Thor would dare try to wed a commoner, but Thor rebutted that Odin-King himself had made the declaration that regardless of lineage, if the woman found the peach fruit of Thor’s birth tree sweet, she would be worthy of being his wife.

Odin-King, thus caught by his own words, was made to subside. Yet the true trial came when Thor brought the woman to the gardens, for Thor knew that his birth tree was fickle and ever-unpredictable. Thor set a hand on the peach tree’s bark and murmured a prayer that it would bless his union with the woman he chose, and then he plucked a fruit and split it in half. He handed one half to the woman, and under the eyes of the King, Queen, and assembled court, the woman bit into the fruit.

The woman chewed once, twice, several times, and then swallowed. She smiled, her lips glittery with the peach juice, and the court erupted in cheers, lead by none other than the crown prince himself, who swept the woman up in a kiss.

The two were married and eventually became king and queen. Years passed, and the peach tree was left alone, no longer visited by the now-King. In his youth, the prince had often sat with the peach tree, resting beneath its shade and climbing upon its boughs, but no longer. Now the king sat on his throne or laid in bed with his wife, and the peach tree stood alone in the garden.

The peach tree had long stopped producing fruit. Thor thought of the sweet fruit with wistfulness, but the state of his birth tree did not become a pressing matter for him until years later. The queen had failed to produce heirs for several years, and now, her health began to dwindle. The royal physician claimed that the queen would not have much longer to live, for an unknown illness seemed to curse her to ill health and infertility. At those words, a storm came over the king’s face.

The king went mad; he dismissed the physician and stalked into the gardens. There, he yelled and cursed at the old peach tree, pounding his fists against its bark. In his rage, the king ordered a servant to bring him an axe. The servants did as he asked, but begged the king to reconsider, yet the king refused. Thor took the axe in his hands and swung. The blow landed in the peach tree with a cruel thud, the strike worse than a dagger in the heart of a lover. Tears poured down the king’s eyes, yet he dug the axe out and swung again, this time severing the tree halfway through its trunk. The tree groaned as if crying for the king to stop, yet the king did not. The king continued to chop and chop and chop until finally he cleaved the tree in two. The tree fell from its mangled stump, its branches never again to bear fruit or to provide shade for the king.

In the following year, the queen’s health improved dramatically, and she gave birth to several healthy sons and daughters. Yet the king seemed changed ever since the day he cut down the birth tree. He did not smile as much, and he was often found tilting his head while looking out into space as if searching for a sound he could no longer hear. In his old years, when his hair had turned gray around his temples and his skin began to sag around his cheeks, the king sat down on the old tree stump and murmured to himself, talking as if to an old and unseen friend.


	22. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (note: fic themes include implied child abuse/neglect)

It was pasta night. Not great for Thor’s diet, but hey, everyone deserved a cheat day. Thor hummed to the music that played from his speakers while digging through his cabinets. A box of dry pasta, salt, some oil, tomato sauce - Thor ducked into the fridge next. Damn, it was sparse. He could use a trip to the grocery; could get some fresh veg, and maybe some ground beef. Spend some time prepping homemade meatballs. He checked the his phone - it was 5:20, now. Plenty of time for a trip to the store.

Thor slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys on the way out. He locked his door with a jaunty whistle, then spun around. He was just about to clomp down the stairs and head to his car, but stopped before taking even a step.

“Hey,” Thor said, the cheer leaving his face. He didn’t mean to frown, but he felt his eyebrows furrowing anyway. “Kid. You here again?”

There was a small figure sitting at the bottom of Thor’s porch steps. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, the same beat-up green one he always wore. The kid shrugged. “You’ve got a nice front yard. I’m enjoying it.”

“Yeah. But maybe you can enjoy it while not trespassing on my property.”

“You gonna kick me out?”

The kid’s voice was sharp. Too sharp, as it always was. Thor hated the way this kid talked. No eleven-year-old should sound like that - like they had to be ready to defend themselves at any moment. “Nah,” Thor said. He went down the stairs and sat down on second-to-last step, leaving some space between him and the kid on the bottom step.

The kid had a notebook out - he was doing homework. Looked like a reading assignment for a book. He answered in acute block paragraphs, perfectly aligned as if they’d been typed out. The kid’s backpack was stuffed between his scuffed sneakers and his skateboard was propped up next to the porch railing.

“Shouldn’t you be home right now?” Thor asked.

The kid shrugged. He kept doing his homework.

“Seriously, kid. You’ve been hanging out here a lot. Are your parents okay with that?”

“They don’t mind.”

“Really,” Thor said. 

The kid wasn’t from around here. Thor knew that much. He made it a point to talk to his neighbors and get to know everyone when he first moved here, so he knew that none of them had a kid with scruffy, uneven black hair and light green eyes that cut at you like knives. None of the neighbors’ kids wore beat-up sneakers that looked a few bad days from falling apart, or hoodies with ratty edges and tattered holes. The kid rolled over here from somewhere, and for some reason, he had a liking for Thor’s house.

It was a good place, Thor could admit. He’d spruced up a whole garden of native plants - gave it a natural, homely feel compared to the fake grass lawns around him. Still, it wasn’t anything to attract a kid like this.

“Do your parents even know where you are?”

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“I’m just thinking hat I’d rather not get arrested if your parents think you’ve gotten kidnapped while you’re hanging out on my property.”

The kid snorted.

“Hey,” Thor said. “What’s that mean?”

“What?” The kid blinked innocently.

“You don’t think your parents won’t care if you’re gone?”

Thor frowned when the kid just started laughing. The boy nearly doubled over from how much he laughed, and after a good minute, he wheezed and settled down. “Mister,” he said, sounding delighted, and turned to Thor with a grin that was far too wide. His eyes were sparkling. “I haven’t seen them in months.”

“What,” Thor said, and the boy just giggled, kicking his feet out like he hadn’t just admitted something terrible. “You mean - you haven’t been home in months? Or your parents haven’t--”

“They’re still in the house,” the kid said. “But it’s not my home. Why should I stay?”

“You ran away from home,” Thor said.

The kid stopped laughing. He looked angry, now - pale-faced with bitter eyes. He snarled, “It was not my home.”

Thor’s mind raced. He didn’t know how to handle this. A runaway kid. He should call the police. They would pick the kid up, contact his parents, bring him back… to where? To a house the kid ran away from, to parents who supposedly hadn’t been looking for him? If they’d filed a missing report, Thor should’ve seen this kid’s face on the news. But there hadn’t been a peep. The kid had still been going to school regularly, too, so it wasn’t as if he’d disappeared. He’d just stopped coming home, and his parents hadn’t cared.

“So if your parents’ place isn’t your home,” Thor said, “do you need help finding a new one?”

The kid blinked, looking surprised that Thor asked. As if Thor wouldn’t try to help him. “Maybe,” he said. “What do you consider home?”

That threw Thor for a loop. “Well, a place you can feel safe,” Thor said. “Where you can find shelter, food, and rest. Where you know you’ll always feel welcome. It’s somewhere you can just… be at peace. Be yourself. Be happy. That’s home.”

The kid grinned.

“What?”

“I’ve already found that place,” the kid said.

“What?” Thor repeated. The kid got to his feet and hoisted his backpack up over his shoulder.

“It’s pasta night, isn’t it?” he said. “Mind if we grab some garlic bread, too?”


	23. Brother

Thor is slowly being driven mad.

It’s normal to have a new romantic obsession every week, Fandral says, when Thor turns to him for advice. But Thor can’t exactly trust Fandral’s judgment on this, because he neglected to mention that his new obsessions all revolve around his lust for his older brother.

Thor has always looked up to Loki. His brother was strict and exacting - some might call him distant and unapproachable, but Thor knew better. No matter how Loki snapped at Thor to stop playing around and do better at his studies, or to calm himself and behave more like a prince, Loki was always there to smooth Thor’s hair, and to embrace and reassure Thor whenever Thor needed him. Loki loved Thor, and Thor loved Loki. More than he should.

“Thor,” Loki says. Even the irritation in his voice makes Thor want to shiver and shift his legs. “Have you been listening?”

“Sorry,” Thor says.

Loki sighs and resumes his explanation on the orders of seidr.

Thor can’t stop staring at the wave of Loki’s hair around his ears. It’s a perfect curve; Loki wears his hair slicked back, neat, tidy. Not a single strand out of place. The hair at his temples falls and tucks behind Loki’s ear, swerving back around to frame Loki’s neck. The dark black strands brush teasingly against Loki’s pale skin. Thor wants to kiss them. He wants to press his lips against that tuft of hair, knowing that just past them lies Loki’s skin.

Loki’s hair is symbolic of his entire image: perfect and pristine, all under his exact control. Thor wants to ruin him. Thor wants to make a mess of Loki, see him panting and flushed, his hair wild and loose over Thor’s bed. Or maybe Thor would pull Loki’s hair, use his grip to guide Loki down. Thor’s perfect older brother, kneeling in front of Thor, hair mussed and wild around Thor’s fingers -

Loki raps the corner of the desk. “You’re still not listening.”

“Sorry,” Thor says.

“You’re staring at my hair,” Loki points out, because of course he noticed. “Out with it. If you have something to say, say it.”

Thor shifts in his seat. “Nothing.” Then, when Loki’s irritation visibly mounts, Thor says, “It’s nice.”

“Nice,” Loki says. “Like my fingers are nice?” He looks down at Thor with half-lidded eyes. “Nice, like the collars of my robes? The color of my eyes, and the shape of my lips as I speak?”

“Er,” Thor says.

“We’re done here,” Loki says. He snaps the book shut, and when he leaves, he takes a piece of Thor’s heart with him.

That night, Thor is nearly sobbing when he knocks at Loki’s door.

“Oh, Thor.”

Loki ushers him inside with a soft touch to Thor’s shoulder. He closes the door and brings Thor to sit with him at the edge of the bed. Thor gingerly sets himself down. He doesn’t fling himself at Loki like he usually does. This time, he holds himself away. The distance between them feels like a world apart.

“Thor,” Loki says, gentle. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

As if he doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong.

(It’s Thor.)

“I’m sorry,” is all Thor can wring out, his throat tight with misery. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Loki reaches out, and at the first brush of his fingers to Thor’s hair, Thor shakes, his skin shivering and raising goosebumps from how sensitive his body is to Loki’s touch.

Thor nearly breaks. He should go, part of him says. Don’t say it. Don’t let him know. That way, he won’t be too disgusted to look at you; he will still touch you as your older brother. He won’t know that he should wash himself after each time you catch sight of him, considering how much your eyes defile his entire body -

“I want you,” Thor confesses, his eyes squeezed shut. “I want you so much. And I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t. You’re my brother, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop. All I can think about is how you look - your smell - how you might--”

“Shhh, Thor.” Loki’s hands wrap around Thor’s fists, gently prying them apart - Thor had clenched his hands so tightly that he’d nearly cut his own palms on his nails. “I understand. Your lust is driving you mad.”

“It’s not just lust,” Thor says, digging his grave even deeper.

“Oh?” Loki asks. His thumbs rub comforting circles on Thor’s palms. “You wish to hold me, then? Make love to me? Perhaps you wish to kiss me?”

“Yes.” Thor shudders from the words out of his brother’s mouth, all of them giving voice to desires he hadn’t dared to name. But he knows them now, and he wants them - he wants them so badly. “Please,” Thor begs, eyes wide and wet as he looks up at Loki. He feels the hope and desperation crashing through him like waves. “A kiss? Please? That’s all I want, it’s all I need. Just once, please?”

Loki’s eyes are soft yet unreadable. “Alright,” he says. “Give us a kiss, then.”

Thor surges forward, nearly clambering onto Loki’s lap. But when his face hovers in front of Loki’s, he hesitates. He only has one chance. He has to make this perfect, Thor thinks - this is the only time he’ll ever be able to kiss his brother. It has to be perfect. Thor carefully lowers his head, breath shuddering in his lungs and throat, and presses his lips to Loki’s.

They’re soft. The skin is smooth and hot against Thor’s mouth, and it’s just so much to know that he’s kissing Loki that Thor nearly cries. He wants to stay like this forever, pressed against Loki, kissing him.

Loki makes a soft noise; Thor panics, heart pounding, thinking that it’s over, Loki’s going to pull back and tell him this will never happen again--

Loki opens his mouth. His tongue flicks across Thor’s lips.

The trail leaves sparks along Thor’s skin, and something inside him shifts. His muscles tense, and his body screams in demand for more.

Thor tackles Loki down onto the bed. They bounce on the pillowy mattress, and when they settle, Thor has his hands wrapped around Loki’s wrists. He pushes them down on the pillows as he licks into Loki’s mouth, his tongue sliding filthily against the wet slick of Loki’s own.

(He’s your brother, a warning cry sounds in the back of Thor’s head, but a rising hunger, gruffer and older, replies: so what? He belongs to me anyway.)


	24. Savior

The criers announced the news in the late afternoon: _The war on Jotunheim is won!_

Loki, barely eleven, stayed huddled in his bedroom with a book while the streets roared with cheers. His elder siblings were out carousing with their friends, most likely, and his parents at a tavern drinking with the rest of Asgard. Loki didn’t care. The more time he had alone, the better.

The common folk of Asgard were good enough when Loki ruled over them, but now that he did not have the title of ‘prince’ to protect him, he had little interest in being bullied and mocked for his interests. So he kept to himself and let his practice of seidr remain hidden.

His family had a small house facing a back alley of Asgard’s streets. It was near enough to the palace, but hidden in shadow. By late evening, Loki was the only one still in the neighborhood, it seemed - he kept a window open to let the night air flow through, and the street below was silent and dark. The sounds of revelry came from the distance. It would likely not cease for several days.

Loki wondered, idly, what the battle against Jotunheim had been like; Hela and Odin had gone together. Surely all that was left was an icy crag. Loki doubted there would be much mercy shown for the frost giants, not when Hela so thirsted for blood and Odin for power.

None of this was of much concern to him, though. After all, he had nothing to do with the royal family in this life. All he had to do was keep his head down. And, perhaps, in a few years, when he had grown more powerful, he would leave Asgard for another realm - one in which he could further his study of seidr and eventually conquer some land of his own, if he so wished.

Either way, he didn’t plan on sticking around in Asgard. Not with Hela still alive and kicking.

(Perhaps he might set off Ragnarok here, too, just for the fun of bringing her demise yet again.)

A slight scuffle from the street broke Loki from his musings. It wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, unless one had enough experience with sneaking about to instantly recognize the sound of someone else trying to do so - and failing.

It wasn’t any of Loki’s business to see who was trying to scurry past - which meant, of course, that Loki discreetly peeked out the window. He looked down to the street. There, he saw a small cloaked figure duck into an alley: the very alley which lead to his family’s house’s entrance, as well as a dead end.

And then Loki heard the sound of the royal guards’ armor. At the other end of the street, a golden contingent bustled into view.

Interesting, Loki thought. He set down his book and ran downstairs.

The guards would be upon the fugitive in a few moments. Loki knew well that there was no hiding in this alley. There would be only one way to escape - and sure enough, when Loki reached the bottom of the steps, the front door shook as the fugitive tried to open it.

“Who goes there?” Loki asked, just to see if the fugitive would respond.

“Please!” was all the other person said. It was a child’s voice. A boy’s. A familiar one. And that was all it took for Loki to rip the door open and pull him inside.

Loki closed and locked the door as quietly as possible, just in time. The pounding of the soldiers’ footsteps neared, and the boy in Loki’s grasp held himself stiff with fear.

Loki turned to look at him slowly.

In the dim light, he saw the blue skin, the red eyes, and the golden hair. He also saw the expression of absolute desperation, masked with what little scraps of courage Thor could muster.

Loki locked eyes with this little Jotun, and slowly brought a finger to his lips. He nodded and squeezed Thor’s arm, hoping the message got across - trust me. Thor’s eyes were wide with terror, but he allowed Loki to guide him deeper into the house, away from windows and doors. Loki grabbed a candle and brought Thor to the pantry closet. He lit the candle and closed the door, and there the two of them stood.

Loki opened his mouth, about to make some pithy introduction, perhaps try to gain Thor’s trust - but that all flew out the window when he got a good look at Thor. “They chained you,” was what he said, and he felt the snarl on his face as his hand reached out unbidden. Thor flinched away from his touch, eyeing Loki with distrust, and Loki cursed himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, withdrawing his hand, trying to salvage his calm. “It’s horrible what they’ve done.”

This, at least, seemed to appease Thor a bit. His glare lessened, but did not fully dissipate. “I didn’t think any of you Asgardian dogs cared what happened to us frost giants,” he said, nearly spitting. Thor was full of anger. He was young and scared, and Loki knew well what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, because what was done was unforgiveable.

It seemed that the Asgardian royal family once again couldn’t help but bring back a Jotun. But this time, not as a son - as a pawn. He didn’t know what had happened to Thor’s family, but from the fear and haunted look in Thor’s eyes, Loki was certain that whatever Hela had in store for Thor, it wasn’t good.

Asgard wasn’t safe for him. Every moment they spent here was another moment in which Thor could be captured and sent back to the royal palace. Heimdall was out there, and would surely find Thor in an instant if he were commanded to look. No. Loki had to keep Thor safe.

He may only have been born a common Asgardian boy, but he was far more powerful than anyone could have imagined - and if there was any use for his power, any use for the dozens of lifetimes he has lived, it would be for this. To protect Thor when he needed Loki.

Loki set down the candle. He kept his eyes on Thor’s red ones, which looked at Loki as if he were strange - not overly wary, but puzzled. Perhaps Thor had come this way because he had sensed Loki would be here. He might even be wondering why Loki might feel familiar. That would be something Thor could figure out later, in the years to come. For now, Loki extended his hands to Thor slowly and said, “I want to help you. I know you don’t know me, but my name is Loki, and I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I’ll get you out of here, and we can go somewhere else - together - but I need you to trust me. Please.”

It sounded mad. It would be mad to anyone. But Thor looked at Loki, wide-eyed, and slowly brought his hands up to take Loki’s. “Alright,” he said. “My name is Thor. Please help me.”

Loki smiled. He gripped Thor’s hands and cast the spell to hide them from Heimdall’s gaze.

“Follow me,” Loki said. “I’ll take care of you.”


	25. Legend

A long time ago, there was a newborn prince cursed with a body made from ice. An old king passing by took pity on the prince and cast a spell to give him a body of flesh and blood. So long as the prince’s heart burned with fire, his body would be warm and he would never again return to ice.

One day, a great betrayal struck the prince. He learned a dark secret which made him doubt the love which kept him warm. His heart ran cold, and the prince’s body became ice once more.

Snow fell over the entire world, bringing a deep and unending winter. Rivers froze over, and oceans chilled. The entire surface of the planet turned white with ice and snow, and the prince’s body became the great glacier which encased the old kingdom he once lived in.

Many years later, a golden-haired boy was born. Though the world was still in winter, the snow around the boy melted, and plants grew along his feet. He was the herald of spring, there to banish the winter. 

The world gathered together and pleaded for him to save them from the prince’s curse. The boy thus set off on a journey to the old kingdom, a trail of spring left behind him. Yet the closer he came to the frozen heart of the prince, the colder the boy felt. Even he could not withstand the freezing chill of the prince’s barren heart. The boy pressed on courageously. Eventually he stood before the heart of the prince, the blue core of ice at the center of the frozen kingdom.

The boy was told to destroy the prince’s heart to break the curse. He held in his hand a mighty hammer which would smash the ice to pieces, leaving the prince’s heart in shards. Yet the boy found that he could not bring himself to injure the prince’s heart. He found its deep blue color beautiful, and he stared into its depths. The boy looked into the prince’s heart, and what he saw was a sadness so profound that it made the boy weep.

The prince had only wanted to be loved. He loved others fiercely, but he had become so deeply afraid. He could not believe in the love of others. His heart closed, and because of that, he became ice.

The boy wished to save the prince, but he did not know what to do. He cried for the prince’s pain, his warm tears falling. 

The boy became the companion to the prince’s heart. He journeyed to the prince often, speaking and sharing stories to the ice. He listened to the voiceless sorrow and shed tears for the pain that the prince had not been able to speak.

The boy’s tears were always warm. After many years, these warm tears formed cracks in the ice, and slowly but surely the glacier began to melt. The fire in the prince’s heart would once again rekindle, ignited by the love the boy gave so freely, and as the prince awoke with a body warmed by compassion, the long winter would finally come to an end.


	26. Pet

Jotunheim won.

Laufey said, “Choose a pet, Loki.”

“This one, of course,” said Loki, and brushed his palm over golden hair.


	27. Hunting

The monster was watching him through the trees. Loki lounged upon a river rock, his clothes folded on the ground beside him. Droplets of water ran down his body, enticing in the sunlight; Loki heard the low, hungry growl from the shadows of the forest and laughed.

He trailed a hand down his pale stomach, still pretending he was only just bathing. If only his dear monster knew that Loki was the one hunting him, and not the other way around.


	28. Bedridden

He was born with a weak constitution, they said; Loki supposed that was why he spent the entirety of his life confined to a bed. He wouldn’t even last to sixteen, probably. Four more years of this hell, trapped in a body that would do nothing he commanded. Loki coughed and wheezed, his tiny chest fluttering from the ache in his lungs.

“Open the window,” he got out, and a servant leaped to his command, flitting toward him and pulling open the window at his bedside. The scent of warm spring air and the sound of rustling trees filled the room. “Leave,” Loki said, coughing. The servants hesitated, but at Loki’s glare, they shuffled out of the room - though they would stay pressed to the door in case Loki had any need of them.

Sometimes Loki wondered if it would be better to die quickly. It was always frightening, dying. When his last breaths escaped him, he always thought about how there had been so much more he had wanted to do - how maybe this would be the last time he saw Thor. He never knew if there would be a next time. He didn’t know why these memories of past lives even came to him. He feared, at times, that they were only fever dreams - tricks of his own mind created by the loneliness he always felt.

Did he imagine all of those past lives where he was a great warrior, a prince? Did he imagine finding the love of his life and spending a lifetime with him? Did he imagine losing everything and going mad with grief? Was he only just a sickly boy after all, one ill in both body and mind?

What if this was his only life? What if everything ended when he died this time?

Thor, Loki thought. If only I could be with Thor.

It would be alright if this were his last lifetime, if only it all ended while he was in Thor’s arms.

The sunlight shone through the window, warming Loki like an embrace from his imaginary lover. Loki shut his eyes, imagining that Thor were beside him, sitting on a chair to his right and tending to him.

The warmth lulled him into a doze. After some time, Loki drifted back to consciousness; he heard a bird twittering nearby. Loki drowsily opened his bleary eyes, and he smiled.

“My little sunshine,” he said. He barely had any energy to move, but he raised his thin arm to the windowsill. A bright yellow canary chirped from its perch on the wood frame. It hopped closer and jumped onto Loki’s fingers, chattering all the while. Loki brought it closer to him, resting his arm on his chest. The bird clung to his fingers, tilting its head as it looked into Loki’s saddened eyes. “You’re the only spot of brightness in my life, you know that?” Loki said, the smile on his face small and fragile.

The bird blinked its unusual blue eyes and tweeted softly. It flew to Loki’s pillow and settled at the crook of his neck, where it nuzzled in as if it wanted to nest there and never leave.


	29. Unsaid

Nothing feels real, sometimes.

What especially does not feel real is that Loki is allowed to have this.

Thor rests beside him in bed. Loki watches his lover’s chest rise and fall, Thor’s mouth drifting open. Soft movements. Sleepy, warm. They had cuddled in bed through the night. The sun has not risen yet, and the light of the room is dim, but Loki knows every curve and shape of Thor’s face. He could see Thor even if he were blind.

 _You are here_ , Loki tells himself. He counts to ten: one, two, three. His breaths leave his chest like clockwork. Eight, nine, ten.

 _You are here, with him,_ Loki tells himself. _You are not back there. You will never be. You are safe._ He repeats this mantra until he believes it a little more.

 _You will be alright._ This thought comes in the sound of Thor’s rumble, warm and deep, settling in Loki’s chest like roots. _You will be okay. I’ve got you._

Loki settles closer to Thor’s sleeping body. Thor puts off warmth like a furnace. The simple body heat is enough to make Loki feel calm.

It is dark, daybreak just on the horizon. Loki is safe. Thor has him, and Loki has Thor.

They are okay.

Thor is the kind of man who wakes all at once. One moment he is sleeping, and the next, he opens his eyes. Loki is the first thing Thor sees, and it makes Loki feel warm when the first thing Thor does is smile.

“Hello, love,” he says, voice quiet and rough from sleep. He raises a hand and reaches out to Loki, slow enough to pull back if Loki does not wish to be touched. But Loki does, so Thor settles his hand at the side of Loki’s neck, his palm enveloping the vulnerable skin. Thor’s thumb brushes against the line of Loki’s jaw. Thor asks, “Did you sleep well?”

Loki nods. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Thor’s palm. Thor grins. He comes closer, and the both of them giggle like newlyweds when they share a kiss. Thor’s lips are dry and soft and hot, and Loki loves them as he loves everything of Thor’s.

Thor snakes an arm around Loki’s waist as the two of them kiss lazily in bed. They enjoy what time they have together. There is a respite, now; on some other, nearing day, Thor will have to dress again in his armors and set out, leaving Loki for months. But for now, they are together.

Loki pushes Thor down on the bed. Thor goes willingly, bemused by his bedmate’s insistence, and looks up at Loki with gentle eyes when Loki straddles him. Loki leans down to mouth at Thor’s neck, the solid column of skin that grows goosebumps when Loki nibbles and nips at it. Thor’s hands migrate to Loki’s hips, feeling like two hot brands that center Loki to the core of his universe. Loki presses a quick kiss to Thor’s bearded jaw before moving down. He mouths at Thor’s collarbones and licks at a nipple, using a hand to tweak the other. Thor moans, fingers tightening around Loki encouragingly.

Thor is beautiful and precious. Loki has never shown him enough. Loki moves his attentions to Thor’s arms, rounded with muscle yet still made of pliant flesh as Loki nips along the trail of a vein. He makes his way down to Thor’s wrist, where he slows. Loki presses a kiss there, closed and reverent, feeling Thor’s pulse so warm and alive against Loki’s lips. It is a soft moment. A lull before Loki continues, kissing Thor’s palm and each of his fingers.

Loki gives the same treatment to Thor’s other arm, his hands rubbing up and down the sides of Thor’s torso all the while. Comforting. By the time Loki sets the last of Thor’s fingers to his lips, Thor is watching him with half-lidded eyes, mouth parted, his cock thick beneath Loki.

Loki scoots down. He runs his hands lower, tracing Thor’s abdomen, his hipbones, running his fingers down the V of Thor’s waist. Thor’s cock juts from the nest of blond hair, but Loki’s fingers swerve past it, moving down instead to wrap around Thor’s thick thighs. Loki pushes at them gently, parting them, and Thor laughs under his breath as he acquiesces, spreading his legs wide for Loki to settle between them.

Loki uses the vial of oil from last night to slick Thor open, Thor’s hole gripping tightly around Loki’s first, second, third fingers. Thor’s body is made of taut muscle, and his hole is no different. It takes much soothing and stretching for Thor to open for Loki, and by the time he is ready, Thor is panting, head turned and pressed into a pillow. His hands are shaking as he grips at the sheets.

Loki lines himself up. He moves slowly inside of Thor, gentle - torturous, Thor might say, if Thor’s mouth were not preoccupied with a soundless moan. Thor shapes words with his mouth: _gods, fuck, so good,_ and much lip-biting in between. When Loki is fully inside, Thor stretched all the way around him, Thor whines. He pants, hips jumping as if he wants to dig Loki deeper or perhaps push away to begin fucking himself. Loki sets a hand on Thor’s leg. Patience. Thor settles, squeezing unbearably good around Loki’s cock, and his meaty legs wrapped around Loki’s hips to keep him deep inside.

“I love you,” Thor says, panting. His face is half-buried in the pillow, but his words are clear. “I love you.”

 _Yes,_ Loki thinks. He runs his hands down Thor’s thighs, comforting and kind, before beginning to move inside of Thor. _I love you, too._


	30. Familiar

Thor is twelve when he goes to the Conservatory to meet his familiar. The entire class is chattering, eager and noisy; they’re all years younger than him. Thor’s the tallest person in a sea of tiny bobbing heads, and he’s the quietest, too.

He’s not good at magic. His mom says he’ll grow into it, and that he’s plenty powerful, she knows - but his dad… well. Thor’s overheard enough whispers from adults to know that for the son of Odin, the world’s greatest sorcerer, and Frigga, the world’s greatest sorceress, to be so weak at magic, is nothing short of a tremendous disappointment.

So, when Thor goes to the Conservatory - an enormous glass building filled with different biomes and habitats to suit every kind of familiar - he’s not holding his breath.

Magic users don’t choose their familiars. The familiars are the ones who choose people, and there isn’t a single familiar who’d want to be stuck with someone as useless as Thor. He can barely make candle flicker on a good day. Even babies can do better than that. Thor’s only allowed here because one of his teachers, Mr Banner, felt bad for him and signed the permission slip that gave Thor the right to join the group.

He might as well not have bothered. The Conservatory guide leads the group of tiny students through to the center of the building, from where everyone will be allowed to walk around all of the different habitats and meet the familiars. Already some familiars are running or flying over. One little boy is immediately tackled by a friendly husky puppy, and a vibrant red and yellow macaw is flying over the head of a red-haired girl.

Thor’s not going to find any familiars who’re meant for him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the trip while he’s here. He’s dreamed of seeing this place ever since everyone else in his class went and got their familiars while he was stuck alone in the classroom. Thor hopes he can see some really awesome familiars, like the giant bears and the tiny stripe-tailed foxes and the sharks.

But what he’s really looking forward to are the snakes.

And just as he thinks that, he sees one hanging from a tree just beyond the railing. It’s hard to see because it’s in shadow, but Thor recognizes the slow slither of the snake as it uncurls from the tree branch. It has dark scales in an intricate pattern. In the shadow they look like a rich and deep forest green.

The snake’s eyes are a vibrant red. They’re mesmerizing. Thor takes a step closer, eager to get a better look, but suddenly a sharp yank at his shoulder stops him.

“Hold on!” It’s the guide. She sounds frantic, and when Thor looks around at her face, he finds her staring at the snake with a tense expression. She looks down at Thor briefly and gives a tight smile. “Sorry. It’s better to stay away from him. He’s not a friendly one.”

The snake continues uncurling from the tree branch, its long and sinuous body stretching out. It hasn’t looked away from Thor even once, and Thor finds that he doesn’t want to look away either. He says, “Okay. I’ll just stay here.”

“I mean it,” the guide says. “This guy’s been here for years, and he’s never once gotten close to anyone. He’s a troublemaker. He may be one of the strongest familiars we have here, but he is extremely picky, and he’ll bite anyone who--”

The guide trails off, slackjawed, when the snake slithers down the tree and comes right for Thor. The snake is fast, like lightning, and though the guide tries to pull Thor back, she’s too late.

The snake wraps around Thor’s leg, climbs up his body, and curls right around Thor’s neck. It sets its head next to his face and nuzzles him affectionately.

“Oh my Merlin,” the guide says faintly.

Thor just stares, shocked, before a wide grin blooms on his face. “Hey, buddy.” He lifts his hand toward the snake, hesitating for a moment. When the snake doesn’t react, Thor pats the body draped over his shoulders gently. “What’s… what’s your name?”

The snake’s tongue flickers from its mouth. Now that the snake is in the light, Thor sees that its body is a beautiful iridescent blue and green, shimmering darkly and reminding him of a peacock. _Loki_ , comes a voice in Thor’s head.

“Loki,” Thor repeats. He feels like his heart is bursting with warmth, and he can’t help but give a stupid grin. What everyone else said was right. When you met your familiar, it felt like you’d known them for your entire life, and you’d just been waiting to meet them ever since you were born.


	31. Compulsion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WARNING: explicit, noncon, somnophilia, magic-induced sex, come inflation, sibling incest, implied dark thor, basically I’m a kink monster and this is very porny in some badwrong ways]

They’d been out hunting a warlock. He wasn’t that strong; judging by the ritual he was trying to set up, he was a middling menace. Getting rid of him should’ve gone easy.

It hadn’t.

One misstep sent Loki hurtling to the ground, legs caught by a magic trap. The warlock hauled Loki up by the neck and bound him with another quick spell, grinning savagely. He brought a knife to Loki’s throat in a clear threat to Thor, who stood frozen at the other side of the forest clearing.

“Such silly little children,” the warlock crooned. “You don’t even know the power you’re dealing with.”

“We do, actually,” Loki said, the skin of his throat bobbing dangerously against the sharp edge of the knife. Thor’s fingers twitched; he looked murderous. He couldn’t make a single move out of fear that something would happen to Loki, but here his twin brother was, mouthing off. “The fact that you need to use a dark ritual to gain more power shows that you’re feeling a little inadequate at the moment.”

As expected, the warlock’s saggy face twisted with rage. Loki smirked inside. He was ready - as soon as the warlock struck out, Loki could seize the opportunity and--

But then the warlock’s expression smoothed out.

“You really think you can rile me up that easily?” He clicked his tongue. “Oh, no, no. If you really want to get someone mad, you have to go for the weaknesses. In fact, let me show you.”

And then the warlock brought a hand to Loki’s head.

A flash of pain made Loki cry out. He felt the man reach in and yank something out - something that made Loki’s chest flutter with panic. “No,” he said, but the warlock was already grinning.

“Loki!” Thor shouted. The sound of the warlock’s laughter drowned it out.

“Oh my, my! How interesting.” The warlock looked toward Thor, an expression of pure delight on his face. “Did you know,” he said, hushed in a mock whisper, “that your twin brother, the very brother who came out of the womb with you--”

“Stop it. Shut your damn--” Loki tried to struggle against the spell that bound him, but he was helpless to stop the warlock from finishing his sentence.

“--fantasizes about you fucking him?” 

Silence filled the clearing.

Against Loki’s better judgment, his gaze had locked onto Thor.

They were brothers in this life. Brothers from birth. The same blood ran through their veins, and they had grown up together as the closest of companions. Thor had never shown any interest in Loki in that way, and no matter how much Loki yearned for him, he would rather keep Thor as a brother than risk losing him by revealing his desire. Incest was one of the greatest taboos on Midgard. Thor and Loki had shared innocent kisses as children, but when they grew older and their bodies began developing, Thor had pulled away entirely. He hadn’t wanted to go further with Loki. It was wrong, unattractive, disgusting to him to love his brother in ways family shouldn’t - so Loki did not push.

He knew he could seduce Thor, easily. But then he would’ve ruined Thor, tainted his brother’s goodness and innocence and easy affection. Loki wouldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t.

But now… his choice didn’t matter.

Upon hearing those words, Thor’s expression hardened to stone. Loki’s stomach dropped into a pit.

“Shut up,” Thor said, rage simmering in his voice. “Let him go right now, and I might not kill you.”

The warlock just laughed. “You’re really not learning your lesson, are you? You want a threat? I’ll give you one.” The warlock gave a grin, all teeth, and made some sort of motion with his hand - it was just out of sight, so Loki couldn’t see what he had done, but he knew something had happened by the way Thor grunted with pain. “You’re going to have a great time tonight. Catch!”

The warlock hurled Loki through the air, sending him barreling toward Thor. Loki still couldn’t move; he would have plummeted face-first into the forest floor if Thor hadn’t caught him. By the time Thor had stabilized Loki in his arms, the warlock had vanished in the trees.

-

The spell didn’t wear off. Thor had to sling Loki over his shoulder and carry him to the car they’d parked outside the forest, at the edge of the treeline. Loki couldn’t so much as raise his arms, so Thor settled Loki into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt for him. Thor got in the driver’s seat, and the car set off.

Neither of them spoke. They’d done enough hunts to know that both of them had fucked up, and that they’d have to work on cleaning up the mess later. They’d find the warlock again, and next time they wouldn’t let him get away.

For now, though.

The car was silent. Thor didn’t even turn on the radio. He gripped the steering wheel like he might break it in half, and his face was still as unreadable as stone.

Loki turned his gaze away and looked out the window. The sight of the passing trees was far less upsetting.

“Loki.” Thor broke the silence. “Tell me he was lying.”

Loki didn’t respond.

He knew he could lie. He could say it was just a trick the warlock pulled, a grotesque accusation made to push them apart. He knew he should do that. He knew that was the best thing to do to keep his relationship with Thor safe.

But Loki didn’t want safe. He wanted more. And he couldn’t have it.

“Loki.” Thor said it like a statement. “He was lying.”

Loki stared out the window.

“Of course,” Loki said, the words spilling as smoothly as water. “He was only lying to throw us off. Of course I don’t feel that way for you. We’re brothers.”

Thor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened for a split second. After a moment, his grip relaxed.

Thor gave a terse nod.

And that was that.

When they got back to the house, Thor carried Loki out of the car. Thankfully it was already night. The neighbors were asleep, and since Odin and Frigga were away for the week, Thor and Loki had the freedom to protect the town without worrying about being back in bed by curfew.

“You still can’t move?” Thor asked.

Loki tried. His fingers didn’t even twitch. “No.”

Thor was quiet. He carried Loki on his back, and walked up the stairs to Loki’s bedroom. Without saying a word, he slipped Loki into bed. When Thor moved to strip Loki’s clothes, he hesitated, hands hovering over Loki’s jacket.

“Leave it,” Loki said. He tried not to show how sick he felt inside, that Thor felt uncomfortable touching him now. “I’ll be fine.”

Thor continued to look down wordlessly. Loki couldn’t see his face, shadowed as it was; all he could see was Thor’s hands clenching. Finally, Thor seemed to steel himself - he moved decisively, stripping Loki of his jacket, thin sweater, boots, socks, and finally, tight black jeans with military precision. When Thor finally finished pulling the black denim from Loki’s legs, Loki caught sight of his face. It was stony. Frighteningly blank.

“Thank you,” Loki said, feeling numb.

“You’re welcome.” Thor clenched his fists. He couldn’t even look at Loki. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something else, but then he shut it with a clack, jaw tightening. “Good night,” was all he bit out, shoulders tight with tension as he rushed out of the room like he couldn’t stand to be there with Loki for a single moment more.

Wonderful.

Loki stared up at the ceiling. Not like he could do anything else. He’d never felt more helpless in his life.

-

Loki eventually fell asleep. He dreamed of good things. He dreamed of the times in lifetimes past, where he and Thor had been in love; he dreamed of Thor caressing his hair and whispering sweetly in his ear while opening Loki up, finger by finger. He dreamed of their first time making love, and how unsure but frantic they were. Thor had entered him with stuttering thrusts, mumbling and red-faced, trying his best to comfort Loki who writhed beneath him from the strange feeling. Loki had been so shy in their first life - he’d never had anyone before Thor. Now, after years and years, centuries and millennia having passed by, Loki was far from the naive and virginal boy he once was.

Yet some things didn’t change. The feeling of being opened up for the first time; the roughness of ill-prepared penetration; the stinging pleasure of being fucked. The breathless feeling he got with each of Thor’s powerful thrusts, and the satisfying, too-much sensation of being utterly filled by Thor’s cock.

All of this, Loki dreamed of; he dreamed of frantic first times, and gentle second times, and passionate third times.

It was the brutal fourth time that finally woke him up.

“What-”

A sharp thrust made Loki cut off with a groan. He was so full. His body was lit up, every inch of him singing with pleasure. He was already panting, his chest heaving with strain - and he was nearly bent in half, his thighs held in a tight grip and spread wide, giving Thor easy access between them.

“What are - Thor--” Loki could barely speak. He felt Thor’s cock, huge and hot and so, so good, jackhammering inside of him. “Oh, gods - what are you--”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, sounding miserable. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” but he didn’t stop thrusting into Loki. In fact, he thrust even harder and deeper, pushing Loki’s thighs further apart to make more room for himself. Thor fell forward, his head resting in the curve of Loki’s neck as he continued to pound into Loki’s ass. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Loki,” Thor moaned, and mouthed greedily at Loki’s collarbone.

“Thor,” Loki said, and there was fear in his voice. “Oh gods, Thor--” It felt so good, so good to be fucked by his brother - but Thor didn’t want this. Thor hadn’t wanted this. Why was he-- “Stop, Thor,” Loki cried out, but Thor only answered with a sob.

“I can’t.” Thor reached down between them. His hand wrapped around Loki’s cock. It was weeping, already so wet, and Thor easily stripped it with long, tight jerks of his fist. “Come for me, Loki. It feels so good when you come,” Thor said, lifting his head to stare up at Loki’s face, his pupils blown wide and tracking every movement of Loki’s expression.

Loki couldn’t help but keen at the feeling of Thor’s hand around him. After Thor had shifted positions, he started rolling his hips with long, torturous pulls of his cock. Each time he thrust back into Loki, Loki felt his cock twitch in Thor’s hand. “Please stop, Thor,” Loki begged - he wouldn’t last, not like this - he couldn’t even force Thor to stop. His body still wouldn’t move. All he could do was let himself be manhandled, used however Thor wanted. And part of him loved it. But the greater part of him - the part of him that could still think - knew that as soon as whatever madness came over Thor was over, everything would be ruined. He had to stop it. “Don’t make me come - don’t - please, pull out--”

But then Thor’s cock hit right on Loki’s prostate, and Loki sobbed. Thor stopped his long thrusts; he started grinding on Loki’s prostate instead, rubbing his thick cock right against that spot in Loki’s walls, and jabbing at it with quick, sharp snaps of his hips. It was torture. It was too much, and with Thor’s palm rolling over the wet tip of Loki’s cock and Thor’s mouth biting and sucking marks at Loki’s collarbone, Loki was helpless. He came with a low cry, cock spitting onto Thor’s palm and painting Loki’s stomach. Loki panted, dazed; he looked down at himself. There were several streaks of come already drying on his stomach - his own spend. Thor had made him come all over himself in his sleep. And not only that--

“Oh gods, how many times did you come inside me?” Loki felt the tears running down his face. It was too much, too much - Thor kept fucking inside him, still planning on feeding him more like he wouldn’t be satisfied until his brother was completely filled up. Loki wanted to sob. If he could move his hands, he would press them to his stomach - he could see a slight bulge there, from all the come Thor had already stuffed him with. He didn’t know if he could fit more, not like this. If he were in the body of a god, maybe, but he was just a human here--

“I’m sorry.” Thor sounded wrecked. “You just feel so good, Loki.”

Loki’s chest was heaving. Now that he’d come, he was oversensitive - it was starting to hurt. It was too much, far too much. “Please,” Loki tried, one last time.

“I’m sorry.” Thor sobbed; his eyes were wet with tears, which started running down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Shhh,” Loki said. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Thor wouldn’t stop. Not until whatever spell he was under ended. All he could do now was comfort Thor and cooperate - the sooner this was over, the sooner they could move on, and if Loki helped, then maybe Thor wouldn’t hate him as much - “What - what do you need?”

“Need you,” Thor said wetly. “Need to come inside you, wanna fill you, wanna make you so round and full and--” Thor shuddered, dropping his head and pressing his face against Loki’s chest. Loki felt the dampness of Thor’s cheeks, the flutter of Thor’s tear-wet eyelashes on his skin. “And mine,” Thor finished, in a low, shamed whisper.

“I’m yours,” Loki said immediately. “I’m yours, I’m yours, Thor, I - oh gods--”

Thor picked Loki up and sat back, holding Loki in his arms in a warm and possessive embrace. But Loki was still wrapped around Thor’s cock, now sitting on it, and Thor started thrusting up into Loki as he hugged him, every inch of their upper bodies pressed together. “I love you, I love you, Lolo,” Thor mumbled against Loki’s neck, the tenderness of his words ruined by the filthy smack of his hips against Loki’s thighs.

Loki couldn’t even speak. He whimpered, drooling against Thor’s shoulder; it was just too much. He could feel the come start sliding out of him, leaking out of him in globs around Thor’s vicious thrusts. Thor felt it, too; he moved his hands to Loki’s hole and started scooping the come up, shoving it back in and stuffing Loki’s hole with his fingers. Loki cried out - he was stretched too much - his hole could barely fit Thor’s cock, and those thick fingers pressing inside, trying to shovel the come back inside him--

Loki sobbed, clenching around Thor, and when Thor came with a groan and started coming inside of him, filling him up even more, he passed out.

-

It was over by sunrise.

By the end of it, Loki was limp on the bed, chest still hitching with moans even though he’d lost consciousness. His stomach - usually so flat and thin, so tiny that Thor thought he might be able to wrap his hands around it, sometimes - was now slightly rounded, thick with come. Loki’s long, pale legs stretched out over the bed, and his hole was swollen red, loose and leaking copious trails of Thor’s semen. All over Loki’s neck and collarbones were hickeys and bite marks, the red and purple bruises obscene against Loki’s usually pristine skin.

(Thor had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.)

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” Thor said, one last time. Not that Loki could hear it. He pulled a blanket over Loki, then checked over himself one last time. Jacket, boots, knives, lighter, hammer. He was ready.

The warlock camped out in an abandoned little cabin off in a deep part of the woods, a place no one ever went to. Thor found him while he was sleeping and shoved him up against a wall of rotten wood.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that,” Thor promised. He held his hammer in his right hand, and he flipped it in the air, catching the heavy weight easily.

“Guess I might,” the warlock said. He didn’t look afraid. He just narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “But since I told one of your brother’s secrets, why don’t I tell one of yours, too.”

The warlock leaned forward. Thor let him, watching him with cold, dispassionate eyes.

The warlock whispered, “The spell only made you fuck him _once_.”

Thor stared at him, unblinking. “Is that all?” he asked. He flipped the hammer again. Gripped it, and swung.


	32. Cheesecake

Cheesecake was a guinea pig.

He lived with his owner in a big apartment. Cheesecake had his own rooms: his cage was spacious and huge, with more than enough space for him to run around or play in. The golden carpet beneath his feet was very soft, and there were lots of cubbies for him to snuggle in and sleep.

Everything was perfect, and Cheesecake was very happy… except for one thing.

He was a little lonely.

Alright, sure, he wasn’t completely alone. His brother Biscotti and his sister Creampuff were around, but honestly, Cheesecake didn’t really get along with them. Biscotti just liked to eat and nuzzle, and Creampuff was a bully who was fast to snarl and bite. Neither of them were exactly the best company.

If only there were another guinea pig he could get along with, Cheesecake thought, laying haplessly in a little straw nest. The straw got caught in Cheesecake’s golden fur, but who cared if he looked a little messy. It wasn’t like Biscotti or Creampuff cared. Maybe his owner would, but that just gave her an excuse to cuddle him in her hands and brush the straw out. So whatever. Cheesecake could look messy. It was fine.

-

It was not fine.

“Hi, babies!” Cheesecake’s owner said, grinning. “I have a new friend for you!”

She had a transport carrier in her hands, and when she opened up the hatch, she pulled out the most beautiful guinea pig Cheesecake had ever seen. His fur was long and dark black, even longer than Creampuff’s, and he had the most imperious, regal look on his face. Cheesecake’s owner placed him down on Cheesecake’s side. In the cage next door, Biscotti and Creampuff chittered. Biscotti came closer, curious, while Creampuff bared her teeth and snarled.

“Meet Oreo! Get along with him, Cheesecake!” Cheesecake’s owner beamed and patted his little head, brushing a little bit of the straw off of him in the process.

That was how Cheesecake realized he was still completely covered in straw, his short golden fur all a mess. Meanwhile, right in front of him was this beautiful and pristinely-groomed guinea pig, who surely thought Cheesecake must be the most disgusting slob ever. Cheesecake wanted to curl up and die.

After being placed in the cage, Oreo turned his head, looking around his surroundings with a critical eye. When he set his gaze on Cheesecake, Cheesecake froze, horribly aware of the straw sticking out of his fur. Oreo blinked, unreadable, and pattered his way closer to Cheesecake. Cheesecake watched him, trembling. He didn’t know what to expect. Was Oreo like Biscotti, who liked nuzzling? Or was he like Creampuff, who shoved and bit?

In the end, Oreo was neither. He stood next to Cheesecake and reached his little head out to pluck a piece of straw out of Cheesecake’s fur.

He was grooming Cheesecake.

 _!!!!_ Cheesecake’s heartbeat tripled in speed. Oreo kept grooming Cheesecake as nonchalantly as if he’d done it a million times before. It was so intimate, so friendly. His little heart thumping, Cheesecake took a small step closer. He hesitantly leaned forward toward Oreo, and when Oreo didn’t respond, bumped his head in a quick nuzzle.

Oreo let him. In fact, Oreo nuzzled back.

 _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ Cheesecake thought, his body vibrating with so much happiness he nearly made the whole floor shake.

-

 _OMGG, look at my babies, they’re so cute!!!!_ Adrey sent.

Attached was a picture of two guinea pigs, one with short gold fur and one with long black fur, cuddling together in a little nook filled with straw, their little bodies forming a heart shape.


	33. Hey

 

 


	34. Carving

There is something strange about the wide-eyed boy Laufey-King brought back from Asgard. It’s more than just the fact that the boy is Aesir, pale-skinned and tiny. No, there’s something strange about the way the boy watches Thor. Wherever Thor goes, the boy is soon to follow, peering at Thor from around a corner.

Thor sits on a sheet of ice in the palace courtyard. He’s a simple warrior, but one of the best; the king invites only the strongest of giants and the fiercest of warriors to the palace, and Thor is the strongest and fiercest of them all. Few dare to approach him.

This little runtling is one of them.

“You still follow me, little shadow?” Thor rumbles. He has a wood block in his hand - fine light-colored wood with curving, dark striations, taken as spoils from Asgard - which he whittles using a bone knife. The carving is only just beginning to take shape; Thor does not have much idle time for hobbies.

This is the first time that Thor has acknowledged the foreign princeling. Laufey-King may say that the boy is to be raised as his own son, a prince of Jotunheim, but the King has a habit of leaving his unworthy children to die. No Jotun approaches the Aesir princeling; they expect him to meet the same fate as the rest of his people, soon.

Despite this, the Aesir princeling has shown no fear. He takes to Jotunheim with an air of apathy, accepting with ease his ostracization.

The Aesir princeling is crafty and distant. He approaches no one, except for Thor.

The princeling comes up to him now, pattering over the snow in his tiny fur boots. He is under-dressed for the weather, by Aesir standards; no one was kind enough to pamper him with comforts. He wears only Asgardian tunics and slacks, but the boy pretends that he is not freezing as he climbs the ice shelf and sits beside Thor.

“I don’t care to follow anyone else,” is all he says.

Thor allows the princeling to sit beside him. There’s little point in pushing him away; the princeling is insignificant, and so long as he does not disturb Thor, it matters not where he goes.

They sit in silence, the only sounds between them being the scraping of the knife on wood. After some minutes, however, the princeling sniffles quietly.

The boy is shivering where he sits beside Thor, knees at his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. His tiny body shakes with cold, but his face remains blank, apathetic. The boy is good at pretending his pain is nothing more than a mere inconvenience.

“You should go inside. Warm up,” Thor says. The boy ignores him, stubbornly staying seated so he can watch Thor as he whittles. “You’ll freeze to death,” Thor warns, to no reaction.

If the princeling does not want to heed Thor’s advice, then let him freeze. It’s not Thor’s problem.

The only reason why Thor unclasps the fur from his shoulders and drops it on top of the princeling is because Laufey-King might be angry if Thor let the princeling die. That’s all. There’s no other reason for why Thor lets the little Aesir bundle himself in the thick wolf pelt that’s twice as big as he is, making the young princeling look like a round ball of fur.

It’s also why Thor does not push the princeling away when he sidles closer to Thor, leaning against Thor’s side and sniffling, his tiny frame still shivering from the cold - but not as much now that he has the wolf pelt around him.

“What are you carving?” the princeling asks.

Thor whittles some more. He rubs a thumb over the rough form of a face, its features undefined. “Not sure yet,” Thor says.


	35. Face

“Sire, are you alright?”

The soldier knelt beside Thor, offering his hand. Thor took it, numb with shock, and the soldier pulled him unsteadily to his feet.

“I–” Thor swayed, eyes dazed caught on the sight in front of him. “The man, he, is he–”

“It will be alright, sire,” the soldier said. “We will have you back to your mother and father soon.”

The soldier tried to steer Thor away, but Thor couldn’t stop staring. The other soldiers gathered around the body of the man. The man - dark-haired and gaunt, with a pale, haunting face - was collapsed on the ground. The guards’ spears had lanced him, and though he was no longer moving, his wounds continued to bleed sluggishly. A thick pool of blood spread out around him.

“He - he said he knew me. He kept asking me why I didn’t remember him,” Thor said. “That man, he…”

He had been crying.

“Forget what he said,” the soldier gently cut in. “He was a madman. We must escort you back to the castle. The Lord and Lady are anxious to see you safe.”

“Alright,” Thor said, voice small.

The soldiers brought Thor back to his father’s lands. When they reached the castle gates, his mother personally flew out to wrap Thor up in her arms, teary-eyed and sobbing with relief.

Things returned to normal, after that. Other than an increase in Thor’s swordsmanship training and more guards stationed around the castle, there was no marked difference between before the man and after.

And yet.

Decades later, when Thor had reached manhood and inherited the title of Lord, he dreamed of the man’s face. The look in the man’s gaze as the spears pierced him. The way his eyes, raw with emotion as they latched desperately onto Thor, slowly lost their light until they were empty.

Thor couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop remembering it. The image surfaced in his dreams, in his idle thoughts. When he looked down at the bottom of a tankard, when he felled an enemy in battle. No matter how much time had passed, the memory haunted Thor. How the man’s lips had parted with betrayal and pain; the way he had stared at Thor with his large, wet eyes, his agony slowly bleeding into cold and barren emptiness.

Thor felt as if he had seen it many, many times before.

(And he should have tried harder to not see it again.

That was why the man’s eyes, empty and lifeless, would never leave him.)


	36. Nothing

Loki searches. He finds nothing.


	37. Monster

This chapter is posted separately as the fic [Nothing Good Comes for Free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448567).


	38. Gamble

“I have to tell you,” the Grandmaster said, fingers steepled in front of his face, eyebrows drawn down, “that we take cheating very, very seriously here on Sakaar. Now I’m not saying that you cheated - don’t, uh, don’t get me wrong here - but I find it, hah hah, I find it very interesting that you won on a billion to one odds in your… what was it, fifth time betting?”

“Beginner’s luck,” Loki said smoothly. He stood prim and proper in front of the Grandmaster’s betting table. The celebrations had stopped all around him: the strobing colored lights had frozen on a combination of lime green and cherry red; the clacking of dice, chips, and spinning roulette wheels ceased; the entire crowd had fallen hushed the moment the results had been revealed.

The Grandmaster kept his eyes on Loki, face serious, unreadable. Then he sat back, and he smiled.

“You called yourself, what was it, the god of, uh, mischief? Tricks?”

“Chaos.”

“Chaos, okay. Chaotic energies. I like it. I get it. A good, uh, good way to explain why something that should have been statistically impossible to win somehow ended up happening. I like that. Chaos.” The Grandmaster chuckled; he looked up at Topaz, standing at his side. “Chaos. Can you believe that?”

Topaz looked absolutely unimpressed.

“Okay, mister God of Chaos.” The Grandmaster drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, smiling. “You won. So, uh, what’s your prize? What do you wanna get? Credits? Power? Your own personal suite?”

Loki smiled. He lifted an arm and pointed to a stage. A cage of sturdy, unbreakable bars rose from the platform, and within that cage kneeled a man on the ground. He was bound in chains, kept there like an animal on display, meant to be ogled and oohed over. His naked body heaved with powerful muscle, and over his left eye, stretching from the line of his shorn hair down past his neck, were painted two red streaks. 

“Him,” Loki said. “Your champion.”


	39. Wife

The chieftain’s son was supposed to strike the witch down. Instead, he took the witch home, and claimed the witch for his own.


	40. Treat

There were only fifty-five days left until Christmas. Thor vibrated with excitement. He hummed, twisting this way and that in the mirror, checking how he looked in his red suit. “Still got it,” he said to himself, winking and throwing finger guns at his own reflection.

It was while Thor reached for his collar to begin undressing that a knock came at his door. He blinked. No one usually knocked at his door. Did one of the elves get into a fight with a reindeer again?

When Thor opened the door, he found, to his surprise, three children standing at his doorstep.

“Why, hello there,” he said, startled. Human children? In the land of Christmas? Why, there must have been some sort of mistake. “Well, don’t you lot look interesting. Have you gotten lost? Do you need any sort of help?”

The children were dressed quite strangely - one looked like a wolf, one like a snake, and the other a bit like death warmed over. They had wide, teeth-filled grins, and the darkness and dreariness of their clothes made them look almost as if they were celebrating another holiday. Easter, perhaps? No, not Easter. Thanksgiving? No, that wasn’t right. The only Holiday happening now, on October 31st, was…

 

The children giggled eerily. “We do need your help, Sandy Claws,” the girl said in sing-song, and before Thor could react, the children pulled out a sack and leaped at him.

 

 

 

“Let me out!” Thor roared. “Ouch!”

Wherever they were going, the ride wasn’t easy. Trapped in the sack, Thor bumped and banged against all sorts of sharp corners and hard surfaces. The children only giggled at every ‘Ow!’ and ‘Ouch!’ out of Thor’s lips.

“You three are being very, very naughty! If you don’t let me out right this instant, you’ll only be getting coal for Christmas!”

“Goodie!” one of the children said gleefully. “We can drop it in a stew!”

“Or start a fire in a forest!”

“Or make someone step all over it! While it’s hot!”

The children laughed, eerie and horrifying, and the only thing Thor could say in reaction to that was, “Oh, fudge.”

 

 

 

Thor had no idea where he’d ended up. All he knew was that it was dark, and scary, and somewhere up in a tall tower. Moonlight drifted in past cobweb-silk-like curtains, illuminating a dreary room of cobblestone with a desk, hundreds of old books, and several tasteful if dramatic pieces of gothic furniture.

And that sitting on one of the armchairs was a man.

At least, Thor thought he was a man. He might have been a spirit, of some sort, or a fairy - he looked almost too bewitching to be a person. His pale skin looked like it would fade into smoke if touched, and his dark, sunken eyes seemed to capture one’s gaze, making Thor look into them as if they were endless - like a void, or the vastness of an abyss.

The man was so thin he was nearly bone, so tall that he should have looked inhumanly gangly - yet there was something about the taper of his finely-tailored pinstripe suit that made him look…

Thor swallowed, throwing his gaze to anything, anywhere other than the man in the chair.

“Where am I?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

The man laughed, deep and sonorous. He flicked his long, thin fingers in a wave. “Good work, my children,” the man said, and the three naughty children giggled happily.

“Have fun, Papa!” said the children as they slipped out of the room, leaving Thor and the man alone.

The second they left, the man rose. He was tall - even taller than Thor, and so elegant in the way he strode, long legs crossing the distance with sinuous movements.

Thor scrambled back, heart beating fast. The sight of the man made him feel so - afraid, yes, afraid, and Thor needed to keep some space between them lest he lose himself to the fear curling inside Thor’s belly.

Yet in an instant, the long-legged, dark-haired man had reached Thor, and he folded his body down until he sat right atop Thor’s lap. He was as light as a feather, yet felt as immovable as stone at the same time.

“Santa Claus, is it,” the man said, trailing a hand down Thor’s chest, over the soft and velvety cloth of Thor’s suit. “Quite a handsome man, aren’t you. There wouldn’t happen to be a Mrs Claus in your life, would there?”

Thor swallowed roughly, feeling his own veins galloping with rushing blood. He was sure his own face was nearly as red as his suit. “No,” he choked out, and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. Snaps, what was wrong with him, he shouldn’t answer - shouldn’t -

The man pressed in tighter, one of his hands playing with Thor’s beard, the other reaching down to squeeze at Thor’s round and weighty belly. “You’re so… soft,” he said, wondrous; it must have been quite a sight for this man, who was made of all sharp angles, skin on bone. Thor wondered if that might be a dealbreaker for the man, if the man might find that perhaps he didn’t enjoy Thor’s softness and let Thor go (and Thor would absolutely not feel disappointed by that, and would not end up slinking back to his home in a sad stupor with an acute need to stuff himself with seven tubs of gingerbread ice cream, if so).

Yet in the end the man smiled, and he trailed his clever, clever fingers over Thor’s chest, grabbing at the soft flesh and the sturdy, hard muscle beneath.

“Oh, I’ll have fun playing with you,” the man breathed, making Thor shiver, a low whine gathering in his throat.


	41. Aflame

Across the street is a house painted cheery yellow, its yard open and shaded by the tall-standing trees. The driveway holds a car that can seat eight.

If one were to peek into the window at the front of the house, looking past the thin, dotted curtains, one would see that within this house lives a happy family of two parents, four children, three dogs, a cat, and a guppy.

Loki, watching them, flicks a lighter. On, off. On, off. The metal clinks each time the cap snaps closed.

He wants to burn it all down.


	42. Game

The lifetimes Loki treasures most are the times where they are brothers.

Their lives are never simple, no; he and Thor don’t fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. They are their own jagged shapes. Thor, Thor is always meant for greatness - and Loki is his shadow. Loki is the weight that pulls Thor down, the evil that tries to secrete Thor away into darkness, so that Thor’s light may shine only for Loki: the sun of Loki’s own private little world. But Thor is too radiant to be held by Loki’s grasp, and the tighter Loki tries to contain him, the more Thor struggles to be let free.

When they are brothers, Thor is more willing to leave a wrist for Loki to grasp; when they are brothers, Thor sometimes tries to keep a hold of Loki as much as Loki tries to keep a hold of Thor.

They had made a promise to each other, in the beginning. Thor does not remember it. Loki does. That is why Loki is the one who holds onto Thor so tightly, and why he is, similarly, the first to let go.

“Please, Loki,” Thor says, kneeling in front of Loki. He has tears in his eyes; one of them trails down his cheek, disappears into his beard. “Come home.”

Loki likes to play this game. It reminds him of the past. He has the formula down to a science: he lets out a wretched laugh, tells Thor some uncooperative quip, and waits to see how Thor will react.

His brother always seems to think everything can be resolved so easily, like Loki should just follow his orders and fall into his arms, continue to be content with the scraps of Thor’s passing affection while watching Thor slowly drift away, his attention caught by whatever stroke of Fate leads him away. There is a brilliant future meant for Thor and whomever the Norns have deemed should be his lover.

That lover is not Loki.

Loki has to carve his way into Thor’s life, and dig out a place in Thor to make room for himself. There is no space for Loki there, otherwise.

So he plays this game, digging his claws into Thor one by one, letting his brother know that he cannot just abandon Loki. Sometimes Thor punishes him in his anger, raging at Loki for the shame he has brought upon himself and the family; sometimes he is disgusted by the crimes Loki has committed. Sometimes he pities his pathetic brother, and tries so desperately to ‘help’ him.

There have been a few times where Thor had abandoned him. Loki had pushed too far, and Thor had finally realized there was nothing good about keeping Loki in his life. So he didn’t.

Loki likes to see how long it takes for Thor in every lifetime to realize that.

“You don’t need me,” Loki croons, head swimming.

“Loki–” Thor begins to say.

A ringing cuts him off. The communication device on Thor’s wrist flashes; Loki thinks he can see the tiny portrait of a woman. “Oooh, you better answer that,” he says. “She must be angry that you left her and came all the way here in the middle of the night.”

Thor looks down at his com. The screen continues to flash, the ringing grating on Loki’s ears. 

After a long moment, Thor reaches his hand to the com. He shuts it off. The screen fades, and the room is silent save for the sounds of harsh breathing. 

“She’s not going to like–” Loki starts, but Thor’s hand silences him as it reaches up to caress the side of Loki’s face.

Thor leans forward, resting his forehead on Loki’s. His eyelashes are damp and dark with tears. “You’re more important to me.” His voice breaks.

Loki can only stare, uncomprehending. And this, for some reason, is what drives Thor to wrap Loki into his arms, his hold gentle yet firm as if cradling a precious child, and drip tears onto Loki’s shoulder.

“Come home,” Thor says.

Loki stares vacantly into space, still unable to understand the new variation in the game. “Okay,” he whispers, and his voice, too, breaks.


	43. Worlds

Loki finds himself on Midgard yet again - or some variation of it.

The year seems to be sometime at the end of the 18th century; when Loki is grown enough to read, he scavenges for clues to tell him when and where he is. The emptiness of magic is keen inside him, giving him a large clue. Eventually, Loki determines that this is the same variation of Midgard that he has been in before: one where magic and gods do not exist, and the universe is, seemingly, empty of any life other than what resides on Midgard.

Loki abhors this world, this place. He cannot find Thor easily. Decades glide past where he finds no trace of Thor. Sometimes Loki gazes up at the sky, the stars slowly being obfuscated by the rising smoke of the newly-built factories, and wonders if somewhere, off in the distance, lies Asgard and the other Nine Realms. If they are out there, and it is only Loki who is stranded here on Midgard, in a time and place where the concept of interstellar travel cannot even be imagined.

Thor does not show up. When Loki is twenty-six, he makes a journey to Italy, where he had last lived, and travels to the countryside. He finds an old ruined field, and an aging, rotten tree in a clearing. Loki carries a shovel with him; he plants the head at the base of the tree and digs.

Out comes a box. Loki brushes the dirt off the top and opens it up. Inside is a book - a diary.

When he returns to his home, Loki takes out a pen and begins writing.


	44. I'm Here

“Shhh. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.”


	45. Kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the Japanese fantasy novel series _Twelve Kingdoms_ , by Yoko Ono.

Whenever a storm brewed over the mountain, the oracles always looked on with worry. A storm in this place would not just bring rains and winds; here, in the mountains at the center of the world, where magical energy was rampant, a storm could be a magical one which carried things away to other places - or brought things from other worlds to this one.

The storm passed quickly. The oracles stationed at the tree of life wiped the sweat from their brows. None of the fruits had been carried away by the storm. There was nothing to worry about, after all - or so they thought.

When the oracles descended the mountain to the palace, they found the other oracles dashing about in a flurry.

“What is happening here?” a senior oracle asked, alarmed by the panic writ across all of the girls’ faces.

“It’s Loki!” another oracle answered, nearly in tears. “An outsider came in from the storm, and Loki won’t let us near him!”

The senior oracle gasped. An outsider? On the holy mountain? And not only that, but in the presence of the holy beast? “We must remove the outsider immediately. Who knows what kind of taint he may carry on him!”

“We’ve tried!” cried another oracle. “But Loki won’t let us near.”

“This cannot do.” The senior oracle frowned and marched toward the holy beast’s rooms. The other oracles stood clustered around the entrance. “Make way!”

The girls parted around her, and the senior oracle stepped past the sliding doors.

Coiled before her was the scaly mass of a gargantuan snake, its head as large as a human body, its gigantic and eerie red eye trained on the senior oracle. Jormungandr, it was called. It was one of the creatures which served and protected the holy beast.

“Loki,” the senior oracle called out. “You must let us take the outsider away.”

Jormungandr hissed, shifting to raise its head in threat. Loki must have commanded it to try and scare her away, but the senior oracle did not fear an attack. She was immortal, after all, as all oracles were; it was only because the other girls did not know how to approach an angry beast that she was the one who now stepped forward.

“Loki!” The senior oracle frowned. By the heavenly seas, this holy beast was the most stubborn and unmanageable one she’d ever had to care for. “Would you at least let us see him, so we know he doesn’t carry anything that will make you ill? What if he’s injured, or bleeding?”

“I would know if he were bleeding,” came the sleek reply from beyond the walls of the snake’s body.

“Let us at least see him, Loki.”

“So you can try and carry him away? I think not.”

“Loki.” The senior oracle was exasperated. “You know that your status as a holy beast means that no human, no mortal, should come in contact with you. You have the esteemed duty of choosing the ruler of the Kingdom of Lo, and if you contract sickness from being in the presence of a tainted mortal, the people of Lo will be the ones who suffer.”

“I tire of your harping.”

For a moment, Jormungandr and the senior oracle stared each other down; then, Jormungandr slid away and disappeared into the air, revealing the holy beast and the outsider.

The senior oracle sucked in a breath. The holy beast of Lo was notoriously captious and irritable, rarely allowing anyone to touch him. He never showed any sort of affection to anything other than his servant creatures.

Yet now, Loki had his arms wrapped around a small child, whom he held on his lap. He gently caressed the child’s blond hair with his hand and rested his cheek on the boy’s head, looking utterly at peace.

The boy in the holy beast’s arms also looked utterly relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned against the holy beast’s chest, seemingly perfectly comfortable in Loki’s arms.

“His name is Thor,” the holy beast said, “and he is the future ruler of my kingdom.”


	46. Billboard

“No,” Loki said, aghast.

He’d traveled a thousand galaxies, sailed billions of light-years of distance, crossed the furthest depths of the universe in search of Thor - and now, here, in the universe’s busiest intergalactic spaceport, among the hundreds of flashing, neon billboards and advertisements, Loki finally found him.

 _Winner of the Mr Universe Pageant!_ the sign announced. _Universally voted the Sexiest Male Entity across five hundred and thirty-six galaxies!_

And there, front and center of the enormous billboard, was a display of Thor. He was nearly entirely nude, save for a tight piece of swimwear which left nothing to the imagination and a sash that read ‘Mr Universe 3018’. He grinned indecently at the camera, long hair wet and clinging to his chest, damp eyelashes dark and seductive.

 _When I find you,_ Loki thought murderously, _I am going to_ wreck _you._

“Pshhh.” A man wearing a red leather jacket passed by in front of Loki, scoffing to his companions as he gestured toward the billboard. “He’s not even _that_ good looking.”

Loki kicked out his leg and tripped him. The man fell flat on his face with a wheezed _oof_ , his companions making various noises of mild yet unconcerned surprise. _That’s what you get for talking shit about my future husband,_ thought Loki, spinning around with a scowl on his face and a new mission on his shoulders.


	47. Autumn

That autumn morning, Loki woke to find ripe berries in his hair. “Ugh,” he grunted, shuffling his way to the mirror in his bathroom. He twisted the black leaves of his hair out of the way, scowling as he checked the dark-red berries growing from his branches.

He could have been born a vampire. He could have been made a ghoul. Hel, he could have been just a normal sorcerer. But no. He was a _dryad_.

“Of all the fucking creatures in the world, of course I ended up being a fucking tree,” Loki muttered, picking up a shear and snipping away the ripe berries. The last thing he wanted was some handsy moron thinking they could reach into Loki’s branches to grab a handful - or even worse, to get swarmed by hungry birds looking for a free meal.

Birds were the worst damned assholes in the world. Now that Loki was essentially a walking tree that had to constantly fend birds off from sitting on or ripping branches out from his head, he felt pretty confident in saying that.

By the time he was done, he was late for his morning lecture class. He might as well not even go. Loki already knew everything the class had to offer; it was one of those he had to take to qualify for the higher-level courses. Those, at least, promised some nuggets of new information, and that promise was the only reason why Loki bothered to go through the whole slog of academia.

Today, though, would be a Loki day. He got dressed in his fall coat and went out to his usual cafe for a drink, ordering a cup of hot sugary water (which was tragically the only thing he could drink as a walking, flowering, berry-growing humanoid tree). He then went to sit on a bench in one of the campus’ open gardens, digging out a book so he could sit and read while enjoying the crisp autumn air.

He enjoyed himself for quite a while. The weather was beautiful, the area quiet. Most other students were in class at this time. Only a few other people were out and about, and they kept a respectful distance, probably recognizing Loki as that dryad who had insinuated, several times, that his leaves were poisonous to the touch.

Most people and supernatural beings stood well clear of him. Sometimes, though. Sometimes there were idiots who didn’t.

Loki heard the footsteps before he even bothered to look up. “I am Groot,” a cheery rumble in a familiar voice said. “I am Groot!”

By Odin’s _fucking_ beard. Loki just barely resisted dropping his face into his hands. He shut his book sharply and looked up to find the rosy-cheeked, golden-haired, and smiling face of the very _human_ Thor.

“Do I look,” Loki said slowly, “like a _flora colossus_ to you?”

Thor’s smile dropped.

“You would think that while you were studying Groot language, you’d at least be able to recognize the damn species that speaks it,” Loki sniped. But before Thor could apologize or back away, Loki responded while taking out his phone, “And thank you. I am free tonight, actually; shall we exchange numbers?”


	48. Vault

“We’re trapped!” Thor banged his fists against the sealed vault door, growling under his breath. “Those fucking bastards.”

“Pipe down, will you?” Loki sat idly against the wall, checking his nails in the dim light that filtered in from a small hole in the ceiling.

Thor whirled around. “How the fuck can you be so calm? They locked us in a sealed vault! We’re going to die in here!”

“I can think of worse places to die than in a room with a good-looking man, honestly.”

Thor stared at him, blank-faced. “...You are not seriously hitting on me right now.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Loki said, looking up from his nails. “Unless you want me to be.”

Thor continued to stare.

\---

Six hours later, the raiders gathered back at the abandoned bank in the desert.

They scratched their heads, looking at the bent vault door tossed onto the sand. The door had been ripped clean off the vault walls, and the vault itself was, of course, empty.

“How the hell did they get out? There weren’t nothing in there they could use to pry this open,” one of the raiders said, kicking the door with a clang. The door was so heavy that it didn’t even move, and the raider shook his leg, hissing from the pain in his foot.

Another raider crouched down, observing the large indent in the vault wall. “Dunno, man. Look at this. They must’a used something to jackhammer this right off.”

“Like what? Wasn’t like they had a battering ram on them.”

“Punched their way out, maybe?”

“They ain’t the Iron Fist, man. That ain’t possible.”

No matter how long the raiders stared at the vault door, they couldn’t find a single explanation for how the two captives bust the door open. In the end, they had to give up.

“It’s a mystery, man,” a raider lamented, shaking his head.


	49. Diner

“Do you know what the worst thing in the world is?” Val asked, her chin propped up in her hand. She’d won the bet, so she got to idly look out the window while Thor struggled beneath the counter, trying to organize the chaotic jumble of glasses and cups some idiot from the last shift had left behind.

“What?” Thor grunted, reaching his arm deep into the shelf to grab the last few mugs from the back.

“When a ‘repeat customer’ says they’re coming back to complain, even though they’re really just trying to flirt with you.” Thor jerked, banging his head against the shelf top. Val smirked. She stepped back smoothly from the counter, clapping a hand to Thor’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

As Val disappeared into the back kitchen, a prickly voice owned by the Odinson Diner’s most infamous ‘regular’ sounded from over the counter. “Pardon me. Is there anyone useful _at all_ in this wreck of an establishment?”


	50. Half

It was in some earlier life that Loki had first heard of soulmates.

Soulmates, soulmates. The word spoke to him. What were he and Thor, if not two souls bound together? Two halves of a whole, two pieces which formed a perfect union? 

Loki and Thor. Thor and Loki. Inseparable.

They were soulmates. They had to be. If not, it wouldn’t make sense why Loki had been driven so mad by these hundreds of passing years, living and dying and living again under the thrall of Thor’s existence. Why else would the Fates constantly put him in reach of his once-husband, yet never allow Loki to grasp him? Why would the world remind Loki of the days he had loved Thor, and been loved in return, and give Loki the opportunity to have those days again and again and again, if only Thor would remember, too?

But something must have gone wrong. Something must have happened that had made Thor forget. Thor never remembered Loki; Loki was the one who had to chase Thor, to pin him down, to make his once-husband remember that he had promised that he was Loki’s. Thor was Loki’s, and no one else’s.

That was what they had promised. So it didn’t make sense why Thor would take wives other than Loki, and love anyone other than Loki. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t.

That was why Loki had to fix it.

“I did it for you,” Loki said, when Thor found him. Thor didn’t seem to hear him; Thor was yelling, his eyes full of rage and tears, locked on the sight of the bloody corpse at Loki’s feet. Loki had only laughed when Thor knocked him away. He laughed as Thor wept over the body of his wife.

“Don’t you see, Thor? You’re not meant to be with her. You’re meant to be with me.” Loki tried to embrace Thor, put his arms around Thor’s shoulders the way he always did when Thor needed comforting. But Thor screamed in rage, a wordless and gutted sound, and shouldered Loki away. He didn’t even look at Loki; he kept staring into his wife’s empty eyes, as if she was anything more than a sack of meat on bone now that she was dead. “Stop looking at her,” Loki said, seething all of a sudden; his fingers had stiffened into claws, and he wanted to rake his nails over Thor’s eyes if the man kept looking at her like that. “Stop it. You should only be looking at me. You’re mine, Thor. I’m yours. _I’m_ yours, not her!”

Thor batted Loki away again. He was looking at Loki now, at least, but his eyes - they were full of anger. Hatred. “I don’t want you, monster,” Thor spat, and the muscles on his right arm bulged. His grip on his warhammer was tight, his fist clenched so strongly that his knuckles had turned white.

“You disgust me,” Thor continued, and the cold way he looked at Loki was like nothing Loki had ever seen before. Loki took a step back as Thor approached, and another, and another. Why was Thor looking at him that way? It was as if Thor gazed at the filth at the bottom of his shoe, not the love of his many lives. “I will never love you. There is nothing good in you, nothing worthy of being loved. You’ve terrorized me every waking moment of my life. I should have killed you the moment I first met you; if I’d bashed your head in then…” Thor’s chest heaved. He let out a roar and charged, seizing Loki by the collar, dragging him up in to the air.

Thor looked Loki in the eyes, his gaze full of cold fire, and snarled, “I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.”

Loki felt like an insect waiting to be crushed, dangled there as Thor readied to kill him.

 _Oh,_ Loki thought.

Thor truly had loved that woman, the way he must have loved all the others. The way he must have loved Loki, that one lifetime.

Loki had been nothing special to him. 

Loki laughed. He laughed and laughed, even as a tear slipped from his eye, even as Thor brought his hammer around to Loki’s head.

Soulmates.

No such thing, was there?


	51. Love

I love you, Thor says.

He says it a dozen times, a hundred times, a thousand times. Every moment he spends with Loki, he says it. I love you.

Loki always gives a half smile, a little smirk. His eyes don’t light up when Thor says it. He doesn’t blush with joy, or shake with giddiness. They’ve been together for years, but whenever Thor says he loves Loki, Loki’s eyes dim. There is sadness in him. Grief. He looks as if he’s waiting for the day those words cease to come.

Who dared to not love you? Thor thinks, when he takes Loki into his arms. Who dared to make you think I couldn’t love you?

Loki won’t believe him just through his words. So Thor says it through the way he holds Loki close, rubbing his hands down Loki’s back. He is there beside Loki when Loki needs him, and through this, someday, maybe Loki will believe Thor when Thor says he will never leave him.

But until that day, Thor continues to speak the words, waiting for the moment Loki will hear them and smile because he knows they’re true.

I love you, Thor says.

I love you.

I love you.


	52. After

“What do you think happens after we die?” 

Loki looks up. Thor is sitting out on the balcony, the sunlight radiant on his shoulders and the golden nest of his hair. The curtains billow around the open balcony door, and their cat naps in the sunlight beside Thor.

“What do you think?” Loki asks.

“I asked you first,” Thor says, but he also adds, “I’m not sure. Maybe we go to heaven.”

Loki sets down his book. He walks over. Thor is looking out over the balcony to the distant world around them. Life is bustling. Little cars pass in streams over the asphalt roads, and tiny dots of people inch forward along the side paths. The treeline and cityscape stretch to the horizon. The sky is vast and beautiful, a clear blue mapped by clouds.

“Heaven is a nice thought,” Loki says. 

“You don’t believe in it.”

“Maybe I think I’m already there,” Loki says, with just enough lightness to make Thor look at him and grin.

“Sap.”

“Never.”

Thor reaches up to tousle Loki’s hair. Loki lets him, enduring the mussing of his carefully-styled hair. It’s fine if he’s messy, some days. 

When Thor finally pulls his hand away, Loki reaches up and grasps it in his own. “Why are you thinking about this anyway? You’re not going to die, are you?”

“I hope not,” Thor says. He smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. He looks back out over the horizon, shifting his grasp so that he and Loki are holding hands. He squeezes lightly. “I was just thinking,” he says. “What if we never see each other again? After this?”

Before Loki can say anything, Thor continues. “I couldn’t bear it, if this is all the time we have together. We have the rest of our lives, but that’s not enough. I want to be with you forever. I want us to have an eternity, you and me. It doesn’t matter where. Heaven or hell, purgatory or limbo - anything, anywhere, as long as I can be with you. And I don’t think… I don’t think I could handle it if one day I found myself in a place where you weren’t there.”

Loki steps closer and wraps Thor in his arms. He rests his cheek atop Thor’s head. “I understand,” he murmurs. “A world without you is no world at all.”

Thor takes one of Loki’s hands, caressing it with his thumb. “So, what do you think? Will we see each other again?”

“We will,” Loki says. “We will meet again. Dozens of times, perhaps hundreds, perhaps thousands, perhaps more times than can ever be counted. We will be strangers each time, but I will know you, and I will love you as I always have - with my whole heart. My whole being. All of myself is dedicated to you, though sometimes I wish it weren’t - because you will not know me. Sometimes you will hate me; sometimes, you’ll pass me on the street and never look back. Sometimes I will be nothing to you. In many, you will never love me the way I love you, and I will have to watch as you choose someone else, someone who will make you happier than I could.”

“I can’t imagine that happening,” Thor says, softly interrupting. “I will always love you. There is no one who can make me happier than you.”

“So you say,” Loki says. So you’ve said, he does not. 

“I mean it,” Thor says. “There is no me without you. A world where I don’t love you is a world that doesn’t have me in it. Maybe there’s someone with my face, and my body. But here?” He brings a hand to his chest, taps it. “This belongs to you. Always you.”

Loki lets out a strangled laugh. He buries his face in Thor’s hair, and after a moment, he accuses, low and barbed and choked, “Does it amuse you, doing this to me?” 

Thor tilts his head back to meet Loki’s eyes. He smiles, bringing a hand to cup Loki’s cheek. He wipes away the tears with his thumb. “I can’t help it, when it makes you look as beautiful as this.”


	53. Village

Thrudheim wasn’t along the path they needed to travel in order to reach the festival at the capital, but Grani had insisted that she wanted to go, so their father had sighed and redirected the wagon. The detour took them a day, and they would be staying there for the night, which meant that they would have to hurry later to make up for it. Njorun had stewed in anger the entire time as the wagon veered off the main road and onto the side path leading to Thrudheim, and she had continued fuming even as the wagon delved deep into the grove that lead to the town.

The large flowering trees and the bushes full of ripe fruit were enchanting, yes, but they weren’t that interesting, and besides, the only thing people did in Thrudheim was farm and make food. There would be tons of food at the capital festival. This was a waste of time, Njorun thought. Though she did have to admit that the falling flower petals from the trees around them were very pretty.

Their father directed the wagon toward one of the larger farms outside the town, an orchard full of apple trees. The farmer agreed to lend them space to rest on his land, and so with their belongings safe and their stay for the night settled, the entire family (except Mother, who wanted to rest, and Eggther, who wanted to keep Mother company) went out and walked to Thrudheim.

There were trees everywhere, and plants, and ferns, and so many vibrantly-colored flowers. Grani would have dashed into the vegetation had Sigmund, their eldest brother, not grabbed her collar and stopped her. Grani pouted, but she did manage to pluck a few flowers from the edge of the path as they walked, and she strung the flowers together into a crown. Grani dropped it on Njorun’s head. “Why be so grumpy! Smile, we’re surrounded by so many beautiful things!”

Njorun scowled and crossed her arms. They were just plants. She didn’t care about them at all. She wanted to see cool things, like metal inventions and complex armor and the lancing tournaments between knights. She didn’t want to look at flowers.

Unfortunately, that was what the rest of the family wanted to do. “No,” Njorun said, when Father said they would be touring some flower garden. “I’m going to stay right here.” She firmly walked a few steps to the statue in the town square and sat upon its rectangular base. 

The rest of the family sighed, but when Njorun stubbornly kept refusing to move, they eventually agreed to leave her alone. “Don’t go anywhere,” Sigmund warned, and Njorun rolled her eyes.

“Where else would I go?” she said snidely. Into a forest? Or a farm? As if.

So the family left her alone there. Njorun sat idly by the statue, watching the native residents of Thrudheim bustle about. This was such a small town with old, boat-like wooden buildings. No one lived in places like these anymore. Everything about this place just felt old, and Njorun hated it. 

She sighed and leaned back, turning her face up to the sky. It was a very clear blue, with some sparse white clouds. Ordinary and boring, she thought. 

But then, lightning streaked across the sky. Njorun jolted at the bright flash, startled by how it came out of nowhere. She wondered if she had seen it right for a second, until more lightning started appearing, crackling across the clear blue sky like tree branches carved above the world. A low roil of thunder accompanied the steady stream of lightning flashes. The lightning didn’t seem to go anywhere; it just appeared in the sky, without striking the earth.

“What is that?” Njorun muttered. She looked down, checking to see how the people of Thrudheim reacted - but they just continued on, not caring, like they hadn’t noticed anything. Only one person acknowledged what was happening. An old woman, her back bent nearly to the ground, her hair pure white and brittle with age, looked up at the sky and shook her head in exasperation. 

“Aren’t you getting too old for that?” was what Njorun thought she heard the woman say, but she wasn’t sure. It didn’t make much sense to her.

The old woman noticed Njorun’s stare. She looked over and raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, the woman slowly made her way over, her steps uneven but sure as she used her cane to help her walk. The old woman sat down on the statue ledge, far enough from Njorun to give her space, but close enough that they could talk.

“Is this your first visit here, child?” the woman asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. “This always happens, every day. Sometimes multiple times. Our god just doesn’t know how to rest.” She shook her head and huffed out a laugh.

“What?” Njorun asked, brow furrowing. “A god is doing that?”

“Of course he is,” the old woman said, like it was obvious. “This is the home of the deity Thor, god of thunder and fertility. You don’t see the statue behind you?”

Njorun had not, in fact, paid much attention to the statue. But now Njorun twisted around to get a better look. 

Indeed, one of the men did look like some sort of deity. He was a tall man with strong muscles and long hair. He held a hammer in one hand, and with the other, he grasped the waist of another man, seemingly pulling the man toward him in an embrace.

The other man in the statue looked strange. There was something almost birdlike in the way his face was made, and from his pose and looks he seemed like he should have been someone delicate - but instead the way he met the god’s gaze made him seem equal and powerful.

“That’s Thor and Loki, the last sacrifice this town over made,” the old woman said. Njorun turned to look at her, surprised. 

“There were human sacrifices here?”

“Aye, of course there were. In the old days, when the lands were starving, everyone offered up sacrifices to whatever deities they thought would listen to them. Oh, I remember it well. All the girls would start crying when it hadn't rained for too long, because that meant one of us was going to go meet our god," the old woman said. "But one day, there was this boy - he was the child of Farbauti, my wife’s great-uncle, and he was a strange child. Always kept to himself, always thinking. Anyway, one day a drought wiped out all the crops, and us girls were all crying, thinking one of us was going to go - and this boy walks up to the elder and says, he wants to be sacrificed."

"He volunteered himself?"

"He did. I told you he was a strange one." The woman shook her head. She continued, "When we used to do the sacrifice, we made the girl look nice. Put her in her best clothes, tried to dress her up with as many decorations as we could. But the village had so little at that point that we had to make do with scraps. Loki, though. He acted like he was getting married for real. He said, if we want this sacrifice to work, we have to make this a grand wedding. Everyone thought he was crazy, but he kept saying this would work, this is what we needed to do. He seemed so sure that people just started to go along with him. So we carved him jewelry made from shiny river stones and wove him a crown made from grasses, and someone even embroidered him a wedding robe with snakes along the hems. He looked like a real sight at the end, and I remember how he kept preening. He kept messing with his hair, and when he was about to walk to the meadow where we did the sacrifice, he bit his lip to make his lips look red with his own blood. The priest made him lie down on the slab of rock we used for the sacrifices, and was getting ready to - well, to send Loki away to meet our god. But before the priest could even get out the hammer, Loki started talking. He said, ‘I’m here for you. Don’t you want to take me?’ as if he were really talking directly to Thor." 

The old woman huffed with laughter. "Everyone thought, this boy has lost it. There’s no way a god would be listening to us mortals, not until we did the sacrifice. But then, all of a sudden - bam! Lightning struck the stone. And when the light faded, Loki was gone.”

“Wait, so he just disappeared?”

“No. Thor took him.” The old woman shook her head, chuckling again. “Oh, Thor took him. No one knew what to do - nothing like this had ever happened before. Did it work? Did Loki’s sacrifice work? The entire village was just standing there, waiting for something to happen. And then - oh, it was just like this,” the old woman said, holding out her hand. A drop of water fell onto her palm. 

Njorun looked up at the sky, noticing now that it was sprinkling - but the sky was just as clear as ever, and the few white clouds in the sky weren’t the ones causing the slight rain. 

“It was just like this,” the old woman repeated. “The rain finally came.”


	54. Shopping

Thor woke in the dead of night, his mouth parched and his body cold. He slapped his arm around the bed next to him and found it empty. He sighed.

After he groggily got up, he stumbled out into the living room and saw that it was dark - save for the glowing white light of the computer screen, which illuminated the edges of Loki's silhouette.

"Dear," Thor said, trying for patience. "What are you doing?"

The sound of rapid mouse clicks and keyboard tapping was deafening in the still night air. "I'm shopping."

It was four in the morning. They had to drive to Oslo in five hours to make it to their parents' house. Thor considered his options, and after going through several hypotheticals, decided it would be faster to let Loki do what he was doing than try, futilely, to get him to come back to bed.

"If you're shopping, why does it look like you're writing an essay," Thor said instead, as Loki tabbed onto a docs window and added an entire paragraph to what seemed to be a very long document.

"I need to compare them." Loki was furious. He was on a mission. He typed like an angry mother leaving a scathing review on a facebook page. "There are too many fake reviews and disparate opinions in the articles, and I have to find out what is actually the best product for my purposes, and I shall not rest until I do."

"Alright," Thor said, easily. He scratched his belly, squinting his eyes as Loki scrolled down two different articles at once to compare them to each other. "But," Thor added, "does it really matter that much what kind of blender we get?"

Loki made a noise of disgust. "You just don't understand," he said hotly, and Thor decided Loki was right. He didn't get it, and he'd be fine just getting something from the nearest outlet store, but Thor supposed love was about letting your husband spend five hours comparing copper cooking pans, or stay up an entire night researching blenders. So Thor shrugged, giving Loki a kiss on the head while passing to the kitchen, and got himself a glass of water before going back to sleep.


	55. Apprentice

The potionmaster’s apprentice boy seemed to run on spite and barbed insults rather than sleep and food like a normal human being. The boy was always up and about, brewing some thing or mixing some salve or another. Even the potionmaster herself was not nearly so active; Angrboda, at least, left her atelier to go carousing every other night.

Loki, though. No matter what time of day Thor entered the shop, Loki was always there, scowling at Thor and occasionally turning his back on him. Thor didn’t even know why the apprentice boy seemed to hate him so; was it because when the boy first started at the castle, Thor had patted him on the head and said he looked a bit like a baby weasel and a snake had a baby, but a cute one? 

On second thought, perhaps that was why. 

Thor was just glad that despite the apprentice boy’s propensity for tricks and mischief, Loki never actually sabotaged any of the potions or healing salves Thor purchased. In fact, Thor had compared the salve Loki had given him to the one Sif had purchased, and found that Loki had actually given Thor one that seemed more effective. The wounds Thor treated with Loki’s salve always healed up perfectly, with not even a seam of a scar left on Thor’s body.

That, of course, made Thor wonder if perhaps the apprentice boy was just shy, and secretly cared for Thor’s health. Perhaps he was one of those children who had an unfortunate tendency to bully the recipient of their affections. Thor would consider it adorable, if it were that. 

Yet Loki’s behavior was altogether too confusing to be boiled down as just that. Loki always shut down any of Thor’s attempts to talk to him; whenever Thor spotted Loki out in town and walked toward him, Loki quickly distanced himself and disappeared. Sometimes Loki looked as if he were in pain the more Thor tried to interact with him.

“It’s because you take up too much of him,” Angrboda had once drunkenly confided. She tapped on her chest. “Here. You’re like a weed growing all over. He’s trying to pull it out, but it keeps coming back.”

Thor stared up at the ceiling, overwhelmed by everything and by the amount of alcohol flooding his veins. “Should I stop coming by the shop, then?”

Angrboda snorted, sloshing her tankard of ale. “Hels, no. You keep coming and giving me that gold, captain.”

So Thor kept coming by Angrboda’s atelier, and he kept watching Loki as the boy worked.

Sometimes Thor wondered if there would ever be a time where Loki would feel comfortable loosening his frown and speaking to Thor. Would the two of them get along? Loki was smart, sharp-tongued, clever and creative. On the surface, there shouldn’t have been anything in common between him and Thor, the captain of the guard whose only strength was strength. 

But when a visiting noble from another city had thrown a fit over Asgard’s security and their confiscation of his illegally-smuggled animals, Loki had been the one to snap to Thor’s defense. “Pray tell how you think insulting the man who has received the King’s favor - a man who is one of only a dozen individuals in the entire Kingdom to do so, a man who has been acknowledged by the King himself for his valor, intelligence, bravery, and morality - could possibly get you out of the fact that you broke royal law,” Loki had said.

It was, perhaps, the first time Loki had ever uttered anything positive about Thor, and Thor couldn’t help but remember it, even months later. 

Thor was haunted by Loki, and if Loki couldn’t get Thor out of his heart - well, Thor couldn’t get Loki out of his, either.


	56. Cuddle

Loki doesn’t know how to ask for help. Now that they’ve been together for years, Thor sees it clearly: Loki doesn’t think that anyone will help him if he asks. Loki thinks he has to bargain, goad, manipulate in order to get anything. He thinks that he has to give people a reason to want to help him, and that it isn’t possible for someone to come to his aid simply because they care about him. 

Loki never asks Thor for comfort. When he needs Thor, he weaves arguments and explanations for why it’s in Thor’s interest to help him, or tries to say just the right words to make Thor do what he wants while having Thor think it was his own idea all along. 

If anyone else tried to do this to him, Thor would be disgusted. Manipulating people - trying to seek out their emotional weaknesses and what makes them tick in order to play those people to one’s own desires - is cowardly, immoral, and cruel behavior. But this is Loki, and Thor loves him - he loves Loki for the way Loki makes him laugh, for the way Loki always has his back, for the way Loki has been there for him when no one else has been. Thor knows that Loki loves him.

The issue is that for all that Loki is good at giving and expressing love, he doesn’t know how to be loved in return.

He always thinks he needs to present a strong, impenetrable front, as if a single show of vulnerability will make him weak, undesirable, and worthy of being mocked. Loki hides and retreats when he’s hurt, and puts on a mask that everything is fine when it’s really not. The times Loki needs Thor most are the times Loki pretends he’d be perfectly alright without him. 

And so, Thor has learned this:

When Thor sees Loki retreat inward with his gaze distant and his attention slow, as if the thoughts in his own head are so loud that they drown out everything else, Thor comes up to Loki and wraps his arms around him.

“I’d like to spend time with you,” Thor murmurs into Loki’s hair. “Could you come cuddle with me on the bed? I just want to hold you.”

When Thor is the one asking for Loki’s help, Loki never refuses. So Loki comes to bed with Thor, and the both of them lie down, covering themselves with the blanket and wrapping their arms around each other, feeling each other’s breathing and knowing that eventually, eventually, it will all be okay. It will all be okay.


	57. Cutthroat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The TV show Cutthroat Kitchen uses actual BDSM equipment. That's all it takes to inspire me, apparently.

####  **[META] Is it just me or…**

_Submitted 5 hours ago by_ workhardragehard

397 comments share save report 

 

Does the host of the show hate Thor Odinson?

EDIT: what the fuck.

 

###  **ALL 397 COMMENTS**

Sorted by: Best 

 

 **Portobello** _1753 points 5 hours ago_

Oh honey.

 

 **Snuffleupagus01** _1305 points 5 hours ago_

Buddy. Listen to me closely. Get off reddit. Don’t look at your inbox. Do NOT google their names together. Save yourself while you still can.

 

 **mikelovespie** _1294 points 5 hours_

‘Hate’

 

 **knifehammer** _898 points 2 hours ago_

Of course he hates Thor. Why else would he stare at him all the time with such passionate, fervent, burning hatred? Why else does he keep putting Thor in BDSM restraints on public television? Why else does he keep leaning into Thor’s space and trying to psych Thor out by breathing on his neck?

I’ve never seen ANYONE hate another person as much as Loki hates Thor.

 

 **N3verwintern1ghts** _562 points 3 hours ago_

lmao they’re gay as fuck

 

 **ThorkiKitchen** _425 points 1 hour ago_

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryyPW7vvvv 

 

####  **THOR+LOKI MOMENTS in Cutthroat Kitchen (Seasons 1-3)**

_A tall blond man saunters into the Cutthroat Kitchen set while an energetic electric guitar solo thrums as background music. The video cuts to a medium shot of the man’s face in the confessional. “I’m Chef Odinson, the head chef of Asgard, and there’s no one better than I am - in or out of the kitchen,” says the man. He has a confident and somewhat arrogant smile on his face. The graphics in the lower third of the screen list the words CHEF ODINSON. EXECUTIVE CHEF. “I’d tell everyone else to go home, but who knows? Maybe I’ll get a challenge after all. I do love a challenge.”_

_The video cuts to another scene, this one taken from the show’s opening segment. The host of the show, a man wearing a sleek all-black suit, leans in conspiratorially to the camera. “What the contestants don’t know is that the challenge isn’t_ each other _\- it’s_ me _.”_

_The video then proceeds through a montage of shots. It shows a close-up of Thor staring intently at Loki while the host of the show speaks, Thor’s eyes seemingly caught on Loki’s mouth and hands. It shows Loki grinning as he leans into Thor’s space, his hair brushing over Thor’s shoulder while Thor tries to chop peppers while wearing oven mitts. Thor fumbles his knife, accidentally cutting an oven mitt open. The video shows Thor’s progression from an arrogant, blustering chef who seemed to think he had no weaknesses, to an awkward, bumbling mess every time the show host stood a little too close._

_“I hate you,” Thor says through gritted teeth, when one of the other show contestants bid to sabotage Thor by putting him in chains._

_“Who, me?” Loki asks, jauntily pulling out the shackles and chains. He walks over to Thor and claps Thor in them like he’s done it a thousand times before. Thor doesn’t stop glaring furiously at Loki the entire time, his face beet red and his body held stiffly._

_The next shot shows Thor in chains, struggling to move his frying pan. When Loki walks past and gives Thor a wink, Thor drops the pan while staring at Loki and doesn’t react until the pan crashes to the ground, his chicken breast flopping sadly to the floor._


	58. Champion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [warnings: battle prize Loki, just-barely-of-age Thor, virgin Thor, manipulative Loki, enthusiastic consent]

They had him all trussed up, of course. The little Jotun prize, meant to be whored out and fucked by whoever won him. Funny how it was the other realms who liked to think the Jotnar were savages.

Loki sat chained up in his little cage, the crude jewelry adorning his neckline, wrists, and ankles covering up the shackles that bound him there. A wall of standing bodies - the Marauders - blocked him from seeing the progression of the competition, but the sounds of weapons clashing, yells, cheers, and boos gave Loki enough context to understand who was winning.

Loki could tell when the final battle was won when the Marauders began grumbling, gold coin being exchanged between their hands, and the crowd in front of him parting to make way for the winner. The Marauders clapped the shoulder of the winner as he passed, launching jeers at him. “Hope ya enjoy yer first fuck,” said one of them with a nasty grin. The other Marauders hooted and laughed as the winner blushed bright red, but kept walking.

He was a young boy, barely into manhood. He still had baby fat rounding his cheeks, and his soft blond hair fell around his face in a way that made him look delicate. The only thing marring his appearance was the scar that ran over his right eye. The right eye was brown, artificial. The other was a deep blue. Both of them gazed at Loki with a strange, innocent, and eager adoration.

The boy held himself stiffly, like he was pretending to be the age of his father to hide the fact that he was still merely a boy. “I won you,” he said, but the rush in his words betrayed his excitement. “You’re mine, so I get to have you. You’re going to come with me. No funny business, alright?”

His voice was already low and deep - exactly the way Loki remembered it to be, the last time he had seen Thor at this age. Loki laughed under his breath. The sound unsettled the Marauder Thor, who nervously flexed his hands. “Yes, I understand,” Loki said.

“You sure you can handle him?” one of the Marauders in the crowd called out.

“Yeah, a feisty frost giant like him needs a real man to put him in his place.”

Hollering and snickering broke out among the Marauders. Loki was the only one who saw when Thor’s expression slipped, the soft, gentle demeanor turning to stone. He could only catch a glimpse of the berserkr rage in Thor’s eyes before Thor spun around and brought it out of sight. “Shut the fuck up,” Thor said, as cold as the ice in Jotunheim. The laughter abruptly died down. “Next man who talks gets my hammer to his face.”

There was silence in the room, save for coughs and shuffling.

Thor turned back around. His face became gentle and nervous again, upon seeing Loki. Thor pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the door to Loki’s cage, pulling it open with a metal squeal. “Come on,” he beckoned. “We’re going to my room.”

The Marauder base in Vanaheim was a maze of tunnels and castle carved into a mountainside. Thor eagerly dragged Loki to his room on the far side of the base, nearly tripping over his own feet with his haste. Loki, impeded as he was by the shackles and jewelry, did trip several times. Thor caught him, but after the third time, Thor finally took the hint that he needed to slow down. The rest of the walk seemed agonizing for him; Loki could feel Thor jittering and trying to contain himself at the slow pace they walked.

When they finally arrived at Thor’s room, a tiny, closet-sized square carved into the rock, Thor shoved open the door and hurried Loki inside. “On the bed,” he ordered, sounding a bit too young and hopeful to have any sort of authority to him. Loki obliged, anyway. He walked to the bed, his hips swaying, and laid down atop the cot with his legs held together coyly, hiding the space between them from Thor’s eyes. Thor gulped audibly; he didn’t seem to know where to put his hands.

“Do shut the door,” Loki had to remind him, and Thor jolted, doing so. After, Thor’s eyes returned to Loki, and he began jerkily stripping himself of his clothes.

“Spread - spread your legs. I’m going to take you,” Thor said, just as he pulled down the waistline of his trousers. His cock leapt out all at once, bouncing up to slap at his belly. It was as thick and enormous as it always was; this part of him, at least, was nearly full grown. Loki felt his mouth water at the sight of the wet red tip as it left a sloppy, slick mark on Thor’s own stomach, but he kept his outward reaction impassive, unreadable.

Loki did as Thor bid, of course. He slowly lifted one of his thighs, spreading his legs to reveal the loincloth covering him. Thor’s breathing was harsh; his pupils were blown wide, riveted to the space between Loki’s legs. Thor stepped forward, entranced, and climbed onto the bed. The surface of the bed dipped under the addition of Thor’s weight. Loki watched as Thor gulped and reverently pulled Loki’s loincloth away. Thor inhaled when he finally saw Loki’s cock and asshole, both flushed purple and delicate compared to the indigo blue of his skin everywhere else.

Thor seemed hypnotized by the sight. Loki tested him, making his hole wink around nothing as if in invite; as expected, Thor groaned, and brought a hand to his own cock to grasp it tightly, cruelly, to stave off his excitement.

Thor scrabbled on top of Loki, lining his cock up to Loki’s hole carefully, watching in total captivation. But before he could breach, Loki asked, in a soft, lilted voice, “Not going to kiss me first?”

Thor looked up, eyes hazy and dim-witted with lust. When the words registered, he blinked, and it was as if a whole new world opened up before him. His face flushed bright red again, and Thor climbed up closer atop Loki on the bed. Perhaps he’d never even had his first kiss, Loki mused. He licked his lips, the flash of tongue an invitation, and Thor surged to take it. He was clumsy and overeager, but Loki worked his mouth gently until Thor learned the way to kiss.

When Thor parted, his breath harsh and mouth slick, Loki licked his lips again. “Such a good boy,” he murmured, and watched Thor shudder from the praise, cock dripping onto Loki’s stomach. “So good. Are you going to slick your cock up?” Loki bat his eyelashes innocently. “It’ll feel so good for both of us that way.”

At those words, Thor’s eyes widened. He quickly climbed off to grab a vial of oil from a table, and he poured some onto his hand. Thor fisted his cock a few times, biting his lip, his golden hair hanging over his face as he looked down. When he was done, he climbed back on top of Loki. “I’m going to take you now,” Thor said, and it seemed he couldn’t hold off any more, for he slid his hips forward and pressed his cockhead against Loki’s virginal entrance. Loki sighed at the feeling of being breached by a cock for the first time in this life. He missed it sorely, dearly; he loved the fullness that came from Thor’s cock inside him. Thor whimpered; he was too young, too eager. The second Loki’s insides wrapped around his cock, Thor began bucking his hips with uneven, wild thrusts.

Thor curled over Loki, his face overwhelmed as he fucked for the first time. Loki might have brushed the hair from his face, if his arms had been free enough; as it was, the only tenderness he could show was wrapping his legs around Thor’s waist, letting Thor use him and fuck into him. Thor’s thrusts were uninspired, but just the knowledge that Thor was taking his pleasure for the first time within Loki’s body, and the feeling of the thickness that pistoned in and out of Loki’s entrance, was enough to make him react. Soon enough, Loki found himself gasping beneath Thor, every third or so thrust making his cock twitch.

Thor was nearly sobbing into Loki’s shoulder. “You’re so perfect,” he slurred. “Perfect for me. ‘M gonna come in you. Every time I need to come, gonna be in you.” He kissed Loki’s shoulder, then kissed Loki’s neck. He kept muttering, mumbling, like the filter between his brain and his mouth had melted from the heat of Loki’s warmth around his cock. “I won you, so you’re mine. Mine forever. ‘M gonna keep you so nice and pretty. Soon as I saw you, knew I was gonna kill anyone who tried to touch you. You’re mine.”

“Fuck,” Loki panted. Part of him wanted to knock Thor’s head with a knee for that audacity. The other part, the one spreading its legs for Thor and letting the boy rut into him like a dog in heat, wanted to bare its neck and whine.

So Loki settled for clenching around Thor and twisting his hips in a way that made Thor stutter and moan. “If you want me to be yours, then you need to make me happy,” Loki said, voice soft, sweet, enticing. “You want me to be happy with you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Thor cried out. “Yes, yes.” He still couldn’t stop thrusting, but he’d lost his pace, now, overwhelmed by the feeling of Loki’s soft insides clenching around him.

“Then make me come,” Loki said, his red eyes mere slits that glittered in the dark. “Make me come. Put your hand on me. That’s it.” Loki sighed and tilted his head back, moaning as Thor stroked his cock while thrusting into him. “That’s it. Good boy. My lovely, wonderful champion.”

When Thor finally came inside of him, all Loki had to do was ask in the softest voice for Thor to willingly take Loki’s cock into his mouth and let Loki spend onto his tongue and face.

Loki wasn’t the only one to be claimed when Thor won, after all.

Loki lounged, languid and boneless on the cot as Thor rushed about to gather water and cloth to clean him up, and let his lip curl into the barest and most invisible of smirks.


	59. Experiment

“I’m fairly certain this breaks Galactic Convention in at least three places,” Loki said, as his captors tossed him into their spaceship cell. “Oof.” He landed awkwardly on his side, his wrists bound behind his back by electromagnetic manacles.

The scientists quickly sealed the hatch and scurried away. Loki sighed, rolling to a more comfortable position. This wasn’t the first time he’d been bound up, and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Can’t you at least tell me the experiment I’m meant to be party to?” Loki called out to the mirror, which he was certain was a one-way glass. There was no answer, fo course. At least, not from the renegade science company that had kidnapped him.

A growl sounded from behind Loki. A familiar one, deep and rumbling, the kind that rattled in Loki’s chest.

“Oh fuck,” Loki said, sotto voce, and then louder he called out, “We’re brothers! You can’t honestly expect us to--”

A holographic diagram popped up over the mirror. ASGARDIAN POPULATION: 2, it read in the corner. The majority of the screen was made up of a diagram of three stick figures. 1 stick man ♂ + 1 stick man ⚧ = 1 baby stick figure.

“Loki,” Thor growled, his voice much, much closer now. He set his clawed hands on Loki’s hips and tore open Loki’s trousers with barely effort.

Loki knocked his head to the ground, sighing as he gave up and let his brother slick him up with his tongue. Of all the races they had to be born to, it was one that suffered from heats.

“I expect massive child support once you knock me up,” Loki said, though Thor was so far gone that the words probably didn’t even register. “An entire planet. A galaxy, maybe. And - ah - a palace where I can eat grapes and - ngh - raise our children. You owe me that much.”

Thor grunted in response, mouth a bit too busy for words.

 


	60. Obligation

Thor clambered up into the treehouse, chasing Loki. “So we’re to be married?”

“I didn’t give you permission to enter,” Loki said, voice sharp. The white and airy gazebo nestled high up in one of the tallest trees of the forest kingdom was Loki’s alone, and no one dared to climb up to the royal prince’s property - save Thor, the visiting prince. “Get down. Leave me.”

Thor rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced out the side of the pavilion, looking at the fog and the enormous trees which rose from the white mist like spires from the ocean, and said, “I don’t know how. There are so many ladders and bridges; I’ll get lost.”

“Then get lost,” Loki said, frosty. He crossed his arms and sat on the furthest bench away from Thor.

Thor’s brow furrowed. “Have I done something to offend you, Prince Loki?”

Loki just snorted. “Trust me, we won’t be marrying. I would sooner toss myself from this pavilion than shackle myself in a loveless marriage.”

Thor looked taken aback by the acidity of Loki’s words. “Loveless? Why do you--”

“Prince Thor, paramour of the seven seas, lover of a thousand women. Your reputation precedes you, _darling."_ Loki’s hand clenched into a fist. "I have no interest in being broodmare to a man who’ll fuck me full of child for duty, then abandon me to a cold bed while he goes out carousing with lovers hanging from both arms. My husband must be someone devoted, who will adore me with his entire being. I accept no less than that. I _deserve_ no less than that. You might say the words and swear the vows when the ceremony comes, but I know you’ll find some other woman to be enchanted with soon enough afterward.”

Thor's cheeks flushed red with indignation. A twisted scowl made its way over his face. “You accuse me of infidelity? Before we’ve even been married? I may have indulged in my youth, but if we are to be wed, then I would treat you with the utmost respect and would never stray or betray you.”

“Oh? So you’d resign yourself to marriage with me, then, suffering my presence for the next hundreds of years. And if you were to ever encounter a woman you fell in love with, you wouldn’t chase after her at all? You would let the woman you love go and helplessly watch her marry someone else, because you’re already shackled to _me.”_

“Yes,” Thor growled. “Because that is my duty. I’m a prince, and I do what is good for my kingdom.”

Loki laughed, bitter and cutting. “Of course. Your _duty.”_ The word rolled off his tongue. “Yes. That is what this is for. Your duty.”

He tilted his head and smiled, looking at Thor from the corner of his pale green eyes.

His voice was low, almost intimate: “I don’t _want_ a man who is _obligated_ to marry me. Either he chooses me, or he doesn’t. And you?”

Loki’s lips curled into a grin as sharp as a blade he had turned on himself.

“You won’t choose me. I already know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thor, of course, took that as a challenge.)


	61. Sims

There were certain things you weren’t supposed to learn about your fiance, Loki supposed; certain things that they had tried to hide from you. Things they had hoped you would never find out about them, not even after you’d been married.

Loki just hadn’t thought that Thor would have anything like that to hide. Especially not... this.

Thor’s face burned brighter than a tomato. “Loki,” he pleaded. “Please stop laughing. Close the damn - close the--” He reached for the laptop, but Loki clutched it to his chest and rolled away, guffawing so hard his eyes watered.

“I need to see this!” Loki quickly set the laptop down on the bed and slid his fingers over the touchpad, rapidly navigating the windows. “Gods, they’re richer than we are. Look at this house. You didn’t build this yourself, did you?”

“Loki, stop. No, no!” Thor launched himself on top of Loki, struggling to pry his hands away from the laptop. Loki cackled and wriggled his way beneath Thor, hands flying out of Thor’s reach.

“We have five children. No, six, since I’m pregnant. Let’s see…” Loki let out a gasp. “You made me a Snob? And Jealous?”

“Listen, this was just--” Thor sputtered. “Before I really knew you--”

“Aww, and look at you. Active, Outgoing, Cheerful. A complete charmer. I should be flattered, really; a jealous snob like me being wooed by the most perfect specimen in all Simkind.” Loki gave a dramatic sigh.

Hearing that, Thor groaned, collapsing on top of Loki. “I give up.” His voice was muffled from speaking into Loki’s back. “This is humiliating. I’m going to die, right here, right now.”

“Can’t you at least roll over? You’re crushing me.” Loki clicked through Thor’s Sims game some more. “Aw, and look at this! Our friends, living in the house next door. How sweet.” Loki took out his phone. Thor laid there, lifeless like a dead fish on top of Loki, as Loki snapped a picture and sent it off to Brunnhilde and Banner.

 _Found my husband’s secret fantasies,_ he texted.

 _Is that me?_ Banner replied. _Whoa! Looking good!_

 _You two deserve each other. Both of you are utter losers,_ Brunnhilde texted.

“They love it just as much as I do,” Loki said, with relish. Thor just groaned.


	62. Boundaries

“Who is that child aboard this ship?”

Yondu Udonta shrugged his shoulders. “Emergency food supply. We’re keepin’ him fresh.” The child - human, small, with a bird’s nest of brown hair upon his head - ducked away into a corner. The Centaurian quickly redirected Loki’s attention, trying to keep Loki from focusing on the boy for too long. “You have any other questions about the place? Mess hall, bedrooms, the shitter...”

“I believe I know my way around now, thank you,” Loki said.

 

 

The boy’s name was Peter Quill. He was just an ordinary boy from Midgard, as far as Loki could see. There wasn’t any reason for why the Ravagers would have risked entering protected Asgardian territory to take him. Loki supposed there must be something about him, but whatever it was, it certainly didn’t show.

The boy was terrified of everyone and everything. The Ravagers joked about eating him, and it was clear that the boy had no idea it was merely a jest - not when the Ravagers took such delight in showing the boy their teeth and warning the boy that if he didn’t behave and do as they said, he would end up in a stew.

Loki knew better than to ask questions, though. A passenger like him shouldn’t get involved in the business of his transporters. Spacefaring without the Bifrost was an arduous task, and Loki wasn’t going to give up the only ship willing to transport a Skrull like him.

And so, Loki kept to himself. He assisted in the ship navigation as per his agreement with Yondu, and kept a distance from the Ravagers on the ship. There was not a single reason for Loki to associate with them, barmy, idiotic, loud-mouthed creatures that they were.

The oversight that Loki did not realize was that since the Ravagers avoided him, as well, anyone who might have wanted to stay away from the Ravagers would gravitate toward Loki’s company. It was a good two weeks into the journey before Loki noticed that the boy, Peter Quill, followed Loki around the ship like a shadow.

Peter didn’t talk to Loki (for Loki did not speak to anyone except for Yondu, his benefactor), but when Loki sat on a chair in a corner to read some holo-messages, the boy crept closer, crouching near Loki and fidgeting as if he wanted to speak, but didn’t dare do so.

Loki could only blame his own accursed softness for what came next. The one day he had been melancholy, thinking back on Thor as a child waiting for Loki to finish his tasks, was the day Peter looked his most miserable and pathetic. Loki, invariably distracted, shut off his holo and looked at the boy. He asked, “Why are you here?”

The boy jumped, but tried to hide it. He had a strong face of bravado, though it quavered at the edges. He wanted everyone to think he was fearless. “Here as in, on this spot?” He pointed down to the floor upon which he sat. “I dunno.”

“Here in space,” Loki clarified. “You’re a long way from Earth, aren’t you?”

The boy hunched over. “I don’t know. I was kidnapped. Abducted. Isn’t that what all you aliens do? Take people?”

“It isn’t very common,” Loki said. A thought crossed his mind of a man dressed in gold, his hair and beard as white as the snow around him, taking a blue baby into his arms. “Though I suppose some races are prone to  doing so.”

“Does your kind of alien do it?” Peter asked.

“Not I. I couldn’t be bothered.”

And apparently, that was enough for Peter to feel reassured. From then on, the boy stuck to Loki’s heels, trailing after him like a small, clumsy puppy. “You stole my boy from me!” Yondu once said. “Then steal him back,” Loki had replied, and Yondu had laughed.

Loki should have done more to dissuade Peter from getting too attached. But perhaps Loki had been weak and lonely, as well; he had spent three hundred years by himself, without companionship. Even a clumsy child who tottered after him, sometimes quiet and sometimes unable to keep himself from making obnoxious commentary on everything he saw, became pleasant company.

But Loki should have set clearer boundaries, and reminded the boy that Loki was not his friend nor his companion. If Loki had, this situation wouldn’t be happening.

Yondu had finally found Thor for him; the man was good at searching for people across galaxies. Funnily enough, Thor was Kree - blue-skinned but still golden-haired and handsome. His hair was shorn, likely growing out from the bald style that Kree military wore. He was an exile to his people as much as Loki was to his - a handy coincidence, given that the Skrull and the Kree were sworn enemies.

They had enough problems between them just because of their peoples’ wars and histories, and they didn’t need another. Especially not one shaped like a human child who clung to Loki’s leg like a burr.

Peter had barely given Thor a single look when a scowling, disgruntled Yondu had first brought the Kree onto the ship. But the second Loki approached Thor and told him, “I’ve been searching for you,” Peter ran up beside Loki, hugged Loki’s leg, and glared at Thor with all his puny might.

Thor had regarded Loki with utter frost, but his expression melted to faint amusement when he saw that.

“Skrull, is this your child?” Thor asked.

Loki made a guttural noise of both affront and disgust. Peter said, snidely, “I’m his friend. And his name is Loki, you weird-looking blue alien.”

Thor’s eyebrows crept up.

“The humans on Earth have such lacking taste, don’t they?” Loki slipped in..

“They do,” Thor agreed, nodding to Loki. “Especially if one thinks something like you looks any good.”

All around, the Ravagers let out a loud _Oooooooooooooh_ which just barely masked out the sound of Peter shrilly screaming, “What did you just say?” and launching himself at Thor.

 

 

An hour later, Loki was still giving Peter the silent treatment. Thor was carousing with the Ravagers, already fitting in perfectly, while Loki barricaded himself in a private room. Peter, who’d found all the ways to crawl around the ship, had broken his way in from the ceiling.

“He’s not even that good-looking, anyway!” Peter said. Loki didn’t even look at him. Loki was looking at a wall, which he found much more pleasant. “He’s all… Rrr! Look at me, I’m so strong and better than you. And why is his voice so low anyway? He talks like he’s just rubbing it in your face that you’re never going to sound half as manly or cool as he does. And he walks around with his shirt off just to make everyone else around him feel worse about themselves. He’s, like, the worst.”

Peter panted after his rant. He sniffled a bit.

“You could find someone so much better.”

Loki dropped his head against the wall with a thud.

He should have set some boundaries. Much, much earlier.


	63. Confession

“I’m not ready for this to be over,” Loki whispered, the night air swallowing his words and dissolving them into silence. Thor slept soundly beside him, grey hair spread out over the pillow, his one eye serenely shut. Loki came closer, snuggling against his brother-husband’s arm, and rested his head on Thor’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want this to be over,” Loki whispered again, his voice only a gust of wind rippling against the quiet of the night. “I don’t want to lose everything. This is the happiest life I’ve ever had.”

His husband was asleep. Thor wouldn’t hear anything Loki said to him now. Loki spoke softly, as if in confession. “You see, it all started many millennia ago. We were just two boys, then - two boys who had fallen in love. You made a vow that you would love me in that life, and for all of eternity - and I made the same vow to you. We promised ourselves to each other. We were happy and peaceful. We loved each other, and that was all.”

Loki reached down. He threaded his fingers in Thor’s, holding his brother’s hand.

“When the end of our lives came, I wasn’t ready. I knew it had to happen, but still… I wept and wept, when it came. The clansmen had to pry me away. There were four of them holding me back from joining you in the pyre. I didn’t last long after, anyway. Life wasn’t worth living without you. Once I breathed my last, that should have been the end of it. I thought I would join you in the afterlife, and we would spend the rest of eternity together - as we’d promised. But instead…my next memories are of being a child in a golden palace, with you there as my brother.”

Loki let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t remember anything in that life. But I just knew that I loved you. I loved you. I don’t know how much you knew it. I was the first one to go, in that life, but I wish I could have spared you that. You didn’t deserve to be left alone.

“In the next life, I met you as a child. I still didn’t remember, then, but I still felt a pull towards you. I knew that something inside me called for your name, so I followed it. You were a captive. I saved you and let you free, and you returned to try and save my life. But it was too late, and just like in the last life, I died before you. And as I watched your face, a part of me realized: I had seen this before. I had been here before. And that was when I began to remember.

“Every life after, I began remembering past lives. Sometimes in flashes of memory, sometimes in floods, and sometimes as if I had just woken up to a change of scenery. 

“At first, I thought this was a gift. A treasure. We could be together, forever, once we reunited. So I pursued you relentlessly, and tried to get back what I thought was mine. We were meant to be together. I thought you felt the same. But you didn’t. You didn’t remember me. You never remembered me, in fact, no matter what I tried, no matter how I attempted to convince you. Though I remembered you, and though I loved you - you didn’t love me back. And I learned that through several lifetimes. Lives where you hated me, lives where I ruined everything because I couldn’t stand to see you happy with someone else. You had vowed to love me forever, and even though you didn’t know it, you broke that vow. You broke my entire reason for living on this way, because for me - I couldn’t imagine trying to love anyone other than you. To live in a way where I didn’t love you.

“But I’ve learned how to do so. I am my own person, after all. I can find joy and fulfillment in life, even without companionship. But I was always haunted by the knowledge that somewhere out there was the man I had pledged my undying fidelity to, the man who possessed a piece of my heart that I could never get back. 

“I know that I can live without you,” Loki said quietly, feeling the warmth of Thor’s hand in his, “but I don’t want to. I want to live every life beside you, knowing that when I wake, you’ll be there with me. I want to live knowing that you will love me, that you will kiss me when I meet you and hold me in your arms when I am cold. I want to live every life like it was our first time, and have that same naive belief that nothing in the world could stop us from being together.

“And so,” Loki said, a tear trailing down his face and onto Thor’s shoulder, “I don’t want this to be over.”

The both of them were already old, their bones creaky, their faces lined with wrinkles. They lay together in bed, nestled beneath warm blankets. In the morning, the sun will peek through the curtains, and the chambermaids would enter to let in the sun and leave out breakfast and the day’s change of clothes. Thor would wake groggily with his eye blinking off sleep, and he would turn to Loki beside him and press a kiss to Loki’s hair before climbing off the bed and beginning his daily routine. Thor and Loki would preside over their kingdom during the day, and in the evening they would reunite in bed, making love if they were able or sleeping if they needed rest. And the cycle would begin in the morning, until the one day when one of them didn’t wake up.

So Loki prayed-

_Give us a little more time,_ he pleaded, to whatever forces in the world were out there. _Let us have this for a little while longer. Just a little more time, that's all. However much longer we can be together - let us have it. Let us stay together, just a little while longer..._

_Please._


	64. Diversions

“I just don’t understand it,” Thor groused, waving an arm at the crowd of beings clustered around the game machines. “Of all the delights and entertainment to be found in the universe, why waste one’s time on such virtual diversions? There is no point to them! Where is the honor! The glory! The excitement!”

Valkyrie was already rolling her eyes as she took another swig of her drink. “Well, you see,” she said, “not everyone’s a battle freak like you. Some people have hobbies that aren’t just fighting or adventuring. Some people like to relax. Play some games. Have a drink… or twenty.” She raised her bottle. “I say, let them party on! What’s it to you, anyway?”

Thor once more gestured furiously at the Central Galactic Station’s game center, which was illuminated with garish and bright neon lights cast over the dark walls and floor. It was packed full of aliens from all across the universe, all of them vying and jockeying for a spot at the game machines. “Look at them! All of them, wasting their youth. They could be training in some skill or another, but instead, they grow pale-faced and anemic in the darkness of this… gaming center. I simply do not understand why, of all things, they choose _this_ to occupy their time.”

Heimdall had been sitting quietly on one of the plush poof chairs in the lobby, resting his eyes (for he sometimes experienced dire migraines from the eye-strain of seeing everything in the universe at once). Yet at these words, Heimdall slatted his eyes open. He, like Valkyrie, seemed weary of hearing Thor rave on about this subject.

“It is not merely the diversion of the games which draw this crowd,” Heimdall said, squinting slightly. “There is a prize to be won for they who can reach the highest scores in all the games.”

“Oh?” At this, Thor perked up. He did love competitions of all sorts. “And what prize is this, that motivates the crowd so?”

“The prize is a kiss from the game center’s proprietor,” said Heimdall, and he made a gesture over to a figure lounging atop a stage. Though the game center was packed, this man was clearly visible as he sat upon his throne on the high-rising platform, a spotlight illuminating his fine features. “This is a once-in-a-century opportunity, or so I am seeing from the advertisements plastered over the establishment’s walls.”

“Ah, I see,” Thor said.

He squinted at the figure sitting on the throne.

“Hm,” Thor said, after a moment. “Hm.”

Thor got up. He began setting his weapons down in a pile. “Friends!” he called out, grinning at Valkyrie and Heimdall, who both looked back at him with equally flat expressions. “I must take leave for a moment. There are - urgent matters I must attend do. Immediately.” Valkyrie took another swig from her bottle, managing to look disinterested but judgmental at the same time. Heimdall remained expressionless, even as Thor sauntered into the game center and shoved his way through the crowd of aliens.

“Tell me how he’s doing,” Valkyrie asked.

“Not good,” Heimdall said, staring into space. “He does not know how to operate the controls. I believe he has just torn the joystick from the machine.”

Valkyrie whooped out a laugh, clutching her stomach. “By Frigga’s tits," she wheezed, "this is going to be _hilarious.”_


	65. Balanced

  * _Everything in the Nation was planned._
  * _Everything in the Nation was balanced._
  * _Everything in the Nation was perfect._



 

Thor Odinson, thirty-four years old and alone, was not living according to plan.

He woke at seven AM every morning, though some days he slept in later than advised, causing him to rush his bathing and dressing in order to make it out the door by seven-thirty. He worked at his parents’ business, the company known as ASGARD, and took the commuter pod rail from his home at Residential Complex C to the capital business district, where ASGARD’s headquarters was located in one of the primary locations. He would arrive each day by seven forty-five, register his arrival at the doors, and ride the glass elevator up the building to his office on the seventy-fifth floor. From there, Thor would work until five PM (with the allotted lunch and bathroom breaks taken in between). At this point, Thor would slightly loosen his tie, shrug off his suit jacket, and pick up his briefcase, readying himself to head back to his residence - alone.

On the way back, while traveling on the commuter pod, Thor would look out the window and watch all of the couples - some his age, some younger, some older - head out to the entertainment, arts, or cultural districts, to spend their time socializing with their assigned partners. They all seemed happy - or as happy as Thor imagined happiness looked like, anyway - and Thor found himself feeling a series of forbidden emotions. Envy. Frustration. Sadness.

Thor did his best to not allow these feelings to influence his attitude or his efficacy at work. He did not want to burden his parents by being an ineffective worker as well as a dysfunctional son. However, it was unavoidable in the long-term that the destructive and inappropriate thoughts which ran through his head would have to be addressed.

Thus, on the first Monday of the thirteenth month, Thor woke at seven-oh-six AM, rushed to bathe and dress, and left his residence at seven thirty-one. He rode down the elevator and hurried to the commuter pods, drawing attention by jogging to make up time when everyone else around him was walking, steps assured, because they were perfectly on-schedule.

Thor did not go into his usual pod rail, Rail A, which lead to the capital business district. Instead, Thor went to a pod along Rail B, which lead to the secondary business district. Inside of the pod, Thor demonstrated several behaviors associated with nervous emotion: he drummed his fingers, fidgeted with his watch, and shuffled his feet more times than was conventional in a neutral emotional state.

The pod arrived at the secondary business district. Thor disembarked, looking out at the open plaza. It was impeccably clean, as all places in the Nation were. A smooth white fountain cycled water at the center of the area. All around the plaza, tall and rounded white skyscrapers rose into the sky.

The plaza was moderately busy, with several dozen people walking to their destinations. Thor hurried along his way, crossing the plaza. He had to make his appointment by seven forty-five; being tardy would cast him further in an unfavorable light.

As Thor passed by a lamppost, he noted a paper taped to it. His steps momentarily slowed. He was intrigued by the sight, for he had never before seen anything like it. The paper depicted a childishly-drawn masked man in green, releasing green squares from his outstretched arms. **FREE YOURSELVES,** the paper read. **ACCEPT THE CHAOS.**

And just as the word CHAOS registered in Thor’s head, the sound of an explosion boomed through the air. Screams rang through the plaza, shrill and alarming, and Thor, disoriented, took several steps back. He looked around the area, and almost in a trance, stared up into the sky.

There, a sea of green papers floated through the air, falling over the city. One of them landed on Thor, and he dazedly took it.

“Oh, no,” he said, still in shock. He read only a few of the words before realizing what it was. “No, no, no.” He let go of the paper, letting it drift through the ground.

The paper read:

**JOIN US AGAINST THE OPPRESSION OF THE NATION.**  
**WE ARE THE BRINGERS OF CHAOS.**  
**WE ARE THE HERALDS OF FREEDOM.**  
**WE ARE--**

Thor crushed the paper underfoot as he broke into a run.

He arrived at the office at eight-oh-three AM, three minutes late. Thor wheezed at the front lobby, passing his identification code to the receptionist. Once authorized, he rushed to the elevator and rode to the nineteenth floor - Emotional Counseling offices.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Thor panted, after arriving at his Nation-assigned counselor’s office. “There was - there was a-”

“It is alright, Mr Odinson,” the counselor, Ms Proxima M. said. She had a neutral smile on her face, the kind that all counselors wore when speaking to their clients. “The Nation has released a statement that any citizens traveling through the secondary business district’s plaza will not be held accountable for tardiness up to fifteen minutes late, on account of a disturbance caused by enemies of the Nation. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Thor said. He followed her direction and took a seat on the armchair facing her desk.

“First I must assess your emotional state after this troubling encounter. How would you say this encounter with the terrorist organization has affected you?”

“I - I feel disturbed,” Thor confessed, wringing his hands. “Frightened. I read a piece of the propaganda before I could stop myself - I - I did not mean to--”

“It is alright, Mr Odinson. The Nation has accounted for these events. You did not do anything wrong.”

“Will it go in my record?”

“It will,” Ms Proxima said, her neutral smile unchanged, “but it will not affect any of your evaluations. The Nation simply makes note to better provide assistance and protection.”

“Oh, I see.” Thor relaxed marginally. “In that case, I - I think I’m fine, then.”

“Very well. Let us move on to the topic of this session.” Ms Proxima opened a notebook and grabbed a pen. “You requested this meeting because you are having difficulty adjusting to life without your soulmate. Is this correct?”

Thor swallowed. He fidgeted with his hands. “Yes,” he said.”I… feel unrest, knowing that I am alone.”

“This is a valid and prevalent feeling expressed by 92% of citizens who do not have a soulmate. You are not alone in this, Mr Odinson. Your file indicates that you have never known your soulmate. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Thor said. He looked down at his hands. “The - previous counseling I’ve received indicated that I was born without a soulmate. The BALANCE matching placed me with a blank entry.”

“Mr Odinson, you are an exceptional case. Only one of two million citizens are born matched to blank entries. You are lucky, Mr Odinson. You are one of only seven citizens to have been considered complete and balanced by the system at birth.”

Thor couldn’t restrain a grim chuckle from escaping him.

“Does this fact cause you amusement, Mr Odinson?”

“It doesn’t. It isn’t amusing. It’s just…” Thor opened his hands helplessly, raising his eyes to meet Ms Proxima’s unreadable, neutrally-smiling face. “I’ve been told that before. That I’m whole. Complete. That’s why BALANCE didn’t match me with anyone. But…” Thor hesitated for a moment. The expression of deeper feelings made him feel strange, on edge, as if he couldn’t trust them to the Nation. But he knew that all things could be trusted to the Nation, so he eventually pried the words from his lips. “I don’t feel whole. I feel… incomplete. Imbalanced. Like there is someone there that I’m missing, but whom I just can’t seem to find. Like… I need someone to balance me.”

This, at last, made Ms Proxima’s smile waver. She stopped writing in her notebook and considered Thor. Thor felt, oddly, like he was an ant under a microscope. Being studied, evaluated.

After a long moment, Ms Proxima set down her notebook and pen. Her neutral smile had restabilized. Clasping her hands together atop her desk, she said, “This is an intriguing thought, Mr Odinson. Have you expressed this to previous counselors before?”

“I have not.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

Thor took some time to answer. “All my life,” he said, voice soft.

“...I see.”

Ms Proxima considered Thor. Thor once again wrung his hands, worrying the skin of his fingers, wondering how abnormal he was, wondering how broken and imperfect he was.

At last, Ms Proxima spoke again.

“Mr Odinson, I would like to invite you to participate in a BALANCE re-examination.”

Thor’s eyes widened. “Is that possible?” He did not dare to breathe his other thought: would this change anything?

“This is not a service advertised to the general public. Of course, the reason for it is because there would be no need for it to anyone other than exceptional citizens, such as yourself. Please follow me.”

Ms Proxima rose from her seat, and Thor followed suit. She guided Thor out of her office and down the hall. There was a set of white doors, ordinary in appearance, but Ms Proxima placed her hand on the sensor beside them. The doors slid open, and Thor followed Ms Proxima into the room, where there was a metal chair attached to the floor.

“Please sit here.”

Thor followed direction and sat upon the chair. Ms Proxima walked behind him and lowered a helmet over his head. “This procedure will scan your mind and search for any possible connections located within the BALANCE server. If there is any person who matches your traits, their identity will be recorded.”

“And I’ll find my soulmate?”

“If this person exists. Yes.”

Thor nodded, throat bobbing.

Ms Proxima began the procedure. Blue light swept over Thor’s eyes, painless. He sat there, the lights churning around his head, scanning him. He had no way of knowing what the system was looking for, or whether it found anything. Time passed slowly, minutes upon minutes going by, until finally the light faded. Thor blinked, momentarily unable to see from the change in his sight.

“Was there any result?” he asked, perhaps too eager.

Ms Proxima did not respond.

“Ms Proxima?”

After a moment, Ms Proxima walked into view.

She had on her face an entirely neutral smile. “I am sorry, Mr Odinson,” she said. “The BALANCE examination indicated that you do not have a soulmate registered among the Nation’s citizens.”

A stone dropped in Thor’s stomach. “Oh,” he said, feeling numb. Ms Proxima lifted the helmet from Thor, and he rose from the chair in a stupor.

“This is the end of our counseling session,” Ms Proxima said, still smiling. “If you would like to schedule another session, please go through the necessary channels. You may return to your residence and spend the remainder of the day in rest.”

“Yes,” Thor said, dazed. “Thank you.”

He stumbled his way out of the offices. The secondary business district’s plaza was entirely immaculate, just as it was before. Not a single trace of what happened remained.

Thor returned to residence in Residential Complex C. He rode the elevator to his apartment, mind battling with the feeling of the sudden hope that had overcome him, and the deep despair that replaced it.

He stumbled into his residence at ten fifteen AM. There were still many more hours of the day. Thor did not know what to do with himself. He could go to the entertainment district to distract himself, but he did not feel like doing so. Instead, he wanted to curl up in his bed and not move until tomorrow came - tomorrow, when his schedule resumed, giving him purpose and direction.

Thor slid out of his shoes, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. He walked into his bedroom, intending to sleep until he could not sleep any longer. He walked to his bed and lifted the comforter.

There, on his bed, was a green paper.

**THIS IS FOR YOU,** were the letters printed on it. Beneath the green paper was a dossier. Though he knew he shouldn’t touch it - though he knew he should report it to the Nation - Thor, in a daze, found himself reaching for it anyway.

The dossier was sleek, grey, and printed with the official mark of TITAN, the Nation’s government. Thor opened the dossier, and there, inside, was a file.

**THOR ODINSON.**  
**SON OF ODIN AND FRIGGA BORSON.**  
**EMPLOYEE (COO) AT ASGARD ENTERPRISES.**  
**SOULMATE OF LOKI LAUFEYSON.**

Thor stared at this for a long time.

He pulled the sheaf of papers out from the dossier, intending to flip through them. But when he did so, another file was revealed behind it.

This one, Thor couldn’t look away from.

There was a picture on the file of a man, about Thor’s age. He had a thin, angular face. His hair was black and shoulder-length, and his eyes were green, magnetic. The man stared out of the photo as if he was looking directly at Thor.

**LOKI LAUFEYSON.**  
**LEADER OF TERRORIST GROUP “RAGNAROK”.**  
**ENEMY OF THE NATION.**  
**SOULMATE OF THOR ODINSON.**


	66. Devil

“Look away!” the priest howled. “He is an incubus, meant to lure you into temptation!” 

Everyone in the monastery let out a cry and averted their eyes, hands over their faces. Everyone except for Loki, of course. 

Loki ran his gaze up and down Thor’s nude body, licking his lips. “Well, I’m thoroughly tempted,” he said. 

Thor, who had just crashed through the ceiling and risen from the rubble with a groan, only to find himself under the scrutiny of a hundred celibate monks and one very not-celibate Loki, gave a furious blush. After a moment under Loki's gaze, he cupped his hands between his legs - for propriety's sake.  



	67. Grannies

“Have you heard anything about the boy who lives there?”

“The one who moved into the old house?”

“Yes, him. Is he seeing anyone? My granddaughter is single again. I was thinking, maybe--”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bother. Have you seen the way he looks at the mayor? Nothing short of enamored.”

“...Drat. You’re right.”


	68. Tryst

The two youngest princes of Vanaheim were born to different mothers on the same day. As the eighth and ninth children of the royal line, they had been expected to compete viciously against each other for the attention of the King, as their seven elder siblings did. Yet instead, these two princes were inseparable since birth, and all the realm knew that they adored each other more than anything. 

Perhaps too much, in fact - though this secret was one only the palace servants knew.

“Thor, brother - we shouldn’t be doing this,” the ninth prince, Loki, often spoke. His words were always punctuated by moans as his brother, Thor, nipped at his neck and ran his hands over Loki’s body. The princes engaged in their trysts all over the castle - in alcoves, in hallways, in spare rooms and in the gardens. There was not a single servant who had not overheard the brothers’ flirtations. It always began with Prince Loki saying they mustn’t, they shouldn’t - but coyly, in a way meant entirely to stoke the fires of lust within his brother. 

Thor was passionate, quick to anger, easy to provoke - and Prince Loki was sly, teasing, ready to stir up trouble at any given opportunity. In these instances, the trouble Loki stirred up was the one in his brother’s trousers, and if anyone asked, Loki would say he was merely doing good and taking responsibility for his actions by allowing his brother to fuck him all over the castle.

They at least had the good decency to engage in these acts away from the eyes and ears of the royal family. The guards and the servants were not so lucky. Yet none of them dared to speak of the matter in voices louder than whispers, for provoking the anger of both princes - one, vindictive and sharp, with the capacity for cruelty, and the other, battle-thirsty and mighty, with hands that could crush rock - seemed the quickest way to lose one’s life.

It was easier to merely avert one’s eyes when encountering the sight of the golden prince plowing into his shadowy brother against the castle wall, or of the youngest prince greedily suckling and swallowing his brother’s cock. All things considered, there were worse sights to be found in the royal palace. Murder scenes and corpses, for example. The two princes’ lovemaking was certainly a more tolerable view.

When the battle for inheritance began and the nine children of the King massacred each other for the crown, it was the two youngest princes who were left standing. Though it was a surprise to the people beyond the castle walls, the servants watched with understanding as the two princes ascended the throne together, ruling wisely and fairly for many centuries hence - with thousands more barely-concealed trysts around the castle along the way.


	69. Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [warning: explicit, somewhat dubcon (Thor technically forces himself on Loki, but Loki's pretty much instantly spreading his legs anyway), my bastardized interpretation of Kree culture]
> 
> "It's just a prank, bro" - Loki's last words

“T’was merely a jest, brother.” Loki skittered back against the wall, holding his hands up in capitulation. Perhaps Thor could have forgiven him, if not for the barely-suppressed cackles still wracking Loki’s body. “No need to be so uptight.”

Thor dripped water from head to toe. He was drenched from the bucket of ice water Loki had dumped over his head, and his blue skin began dulling from the cold. “A jest,” Thor repeated. “The Kree do not jest, Loki.”

Loki scoffed. “It’s not as if you were born without a sense of humor. What’s the harm in having a little fun?”

By ‘a little fun’, Loki meant flagrant disregard of Kree hierarchy and social rules. Thor’s brother caused mischief and chaos wherever he went, not caring that he jeopardized their family’s standing, not caring that he put Thor’s discipline and ranking in the Kree military in peril. Loki refused to be controlled. He always complained about how everything was far too restrictive and dull on Hala, and that was why he acted the way he did and always said to Thor:

“You should really consider loosening up sometime.” Loki punctuated this with a tilt of his head and a wide smile. “Why not live a little? I assure you, it’s much more entertaining.”

“Do you care nothing for the dignity of the Kree? The rules by which we live?” Thor shot back. “There are no pranks. There are no jests. We are to be warriors, not tricksters.”

“But it’s so much more fun to be a trickster, living for mischief and pranks.”

Thor narrowed his eyes.

His brother remained entirely unrepentant, looking at Thor with amused anticipation. Thor knew what he was thinking. Loki thought Thor would scold him again, give another lecture on decency and proper behavior. But Loki never learned, and he would be right back to his ways immediately after. 

Loki had to be taught a lesson. A lesson for the consequences of his actions.

“Alright,” Thor said. This response caught Loki off guard. Loki faltered, blinking, and in that instance where his defenses were low, Thor surged forward. He seized Loki’s wrists and pinned them to the wall. 

“Wha - brother--”

“You wish for me to not follow the rules?” Thor rumbled.

He lowered his head, lips descending on Loki’s exposed neck. Thor kissed the delicate skin, nibbling and biting fiercely, sinking his teeth in until they left marks. Loki jerked in Thor’s grasp, gasping, and tried to wrench his wrists free. But Thor kept him pinned tightly to the wall, moving even closer until there wasn’t any space for Loki to wriggle out. He continued suckling and licking at Loki’s neck until his brother’s gasps turned into whines.

“Filthy,” Thor murmured against Loki’s skin. “Of course a deviant like you would enjoy this.” He ground his hips forward, rocking his erection against the hot cock in his brother’s pants.

“You’re the one who--” Whatever Loki said was cut off when Thor backed off, suddenly, and hauled Loki off the wall. Thor threw Loki to the floor. His brother let out an ‘oomph’ from the impact, hands slapping against the ground to keep himself from falling face-flat. Before Loki could react in any other way, Thor reached down and yanked Loki’s pants down past his thighs. “Thor!” Thor sank to his knees, grasping and kneading the supple muscle of his brother’s ass. He spread the cheeks and spat between them, and Loki gasped and jerked away at the feeling of spit dripping over his hole. “Thor! What are you doing, you - I’m your brother--”

“‘Tis merely a jest,” said Thor. He watched the slick trail of his saliva dip into Loki’s hole, soft and purple, spread wide obscenely. No other man had a hole that looked as wet and open as Thor’s brother’s, he was sure - yet another sign of Loki’s deviancy. Thor dipped his thumbs into Loki’s hole, spreading the spit and massaging his rim to make it even looser. Loki’s body hitched and heaved, whimpers leaving his chest like he couldn’t contain them. “You said you wanted me to stop following the rules,” Thor said, fingers stroking Loki’s ass and the tops of his thighs. “Do you still want that?”

Loki had collapsed on the floor at some point, his arms pillowing his head. He didn’t look like he’d even considered struggling his way free. Loki’s mouth was wide open, letting out pants as Thor continued to massage his ass and his rim. “Yes,” Loki admitted, the word spilling softly from his lips. “Yes, I - brother--”

Thor sank his thumb deep into Loki’s hole. His brother’s walls clenched tightly around him, so hot and so soft inside. Thor’s eyelids fluttered from the overwhelming sensation. He’d been waiting for this. Ever since his prick had hardened for the first time, he’d fantasized about burying it within his brother’s slick mouth or between his long legs. Yet he knew that he couldn’t. They were brothers. They weren’t meant to fuck. They weren’t meant to love each other in the way partnered couples did. 

But Thor had always taken himself in hand and fucked his fist to the thought of it anyway.

Thor’s cock was heavy, flushed purple, tip already wet with excitement. He fit the flared head against Loki’s gaping hole, and watched his cock sink into his brother easily, rim greedily stretching around the tip of Thor’s cock until the entire head was in. Thor’s breath shuddered. It was so tight within Loki. His brother clung around him so sweetly. Thor kept pushing in, watching with rapt attention as each inch of his cock sank deeper and deeper within his brother. 

Loki was quivering, hips twitching as Thor fed him his cock, and though he was so small and slender he still managed to take the full length until Thor’s hips were flush against him. Loki moaned when Thor was fully seated. He was wanton, a creature of carnal lust who immediately began fucking himself on the length of Thor’s cock. He had done this before, Thor realized, rage coursing through his veins. Thor drew his hips away and rammed back into Loki, setting a brutal, vicious pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin forming a sharp rhythm over the sound of Loki’s cries. 

Thor grasped the back of Loki’s neck, his grip like a vise, possessive. He bared his teeth, anger mixing with his lust as he thought of any other man taking his brother, taking what was Thor’s.

Loki shuddered under Thor’s grip, body shaking, his ass clenching around Thor’s cock. It nearly drove Thor to burst inside of him, but Thor grit his teeth and held on, continuing to fuck into Loki with punishing roughness.

“You brute,” Loki sobbed. He continued to lay there, head pillowed on his arms, taking every brutal thrust of Thor’s cock without any resistance.

“What.” Thor snapped his hips against Loki’s, punching out a moan from Loki’s lips. “Do you want to come?”

“No - no, I already--” Loki wept, fingers scrabbling over the floor as Thor’s hand circled his softening, wet cock. Without any mercy, Thor rolled his brother’s cock around his palm, sliding it in his hand and teasing the head and slit with his fingers. Loki’s legs nearly gave out, the continuous rapid pounding in his ass and the strokes on his oversensitive cock likely overwhelming him. He pleaded, “Thor - Thor please, I--”

“I’ll keep going,” Thor said, “until you beg for the rules that would have protected you from this.” He kept fucking into Loki’s pliant, sloppy hole, and slowly, Loki’s cock began stiffening once more in Thor’s grip. “I’ll stop the moment you learn your lesson.”

Loki choked out a laugh. “You’ll - oh - you’ll be fucking me forever, then.”

Thor grunted, shoving his cock as far into Loki as it could go, eyes squeezed shut as he unloaded his first spend into his brother. He kept fucking through his coming with sharp, short thrusts, the air filling with obscene squelches as Thor’s come eventually leaked out around his cock, dribbling from Loki’s stretched rim.

That’s right, Thor thought, lowering his body and repositioning himself until he panted directly over the nape of Loki’s neck. He sank his teeth into the blue expanse of skin, shuddering as he felt the wet and slick walls of Loki’s ass clench around him. He would be ready again in just a few minutes, ready to keep teaching Loki the danger of what happened when a Kree stopped following the rules that kept society proper. Safe. Moral.

Thor’s cock hardened within his little brother’s ass again quickly, and he resumed pounding away, making Loki cry out beneath him.

Yet no matter how long and how often Thor would have to teach Loki this lesson, Thor was counting on Loki never learning from it.


	70. Drink

There was nothing left to do but drink, drink, drink until he forgot the face of the man who didn’t love him back.


	71. Fairy

The letter came a few days after Odin’s passing. Their grandfather, Bor, had land in a distant farmer’s town, apparently rich and fertile - but unattended for many years after the war.

“How lucky for you, little brother,” Hela had said, her smile as vicious and wicked as a knife. She checked her nails as she spoke, affecting disinterest. “Perhaps you’ll have something to your name after all. Not Asgard, though. Asgard remains solely mine.”

Thor had packed his belongings that night. The servants gave him a teary goodbye in the morning, presenting him a basket of fresh breakfast and baked goods to last him the journey to Nornheim. 

Thor arrived early in the spring season. The air was clean, breezy with the scent of flowers and newly-sprouting greenery. The plentiful trees rustled like chimes, and when Thor knocked on the mayor’s door and presented the paper of Bor’s holdings and Odin’s letter of bequeathal, the mayor jauntily welcomed him and showed him to the farm.

“Hasn’t been tended to in quite a while,” she said, as if forty years could be counted as ‘quite a while’. “But the soil’s as good as ever. Just needs a little tending to.”

“That, I can do,” Thor said, quiet. 

He patted the mayor on the shoulder and thanked her. The mayor beamed at him.

“Come to my house for dinner, lad. You’ll dine with my family. Your first night in Nornheim should be spent in company!” she said, not giving any room for refusal. Thor accepted her generosity, and after spending the rest of the day clearing out the dust in the old house and arranging his things (old armor, old weapons, and sentimental trinkets from his mother and father), he went to the mayor’s house for supper.

The mayor’s dining table was large and long, seating eleven: the mayor and her husband, their daughter and son, their daughter and son’s wives, and their grandchldren. It was loud and lively around the table, with everyone passing dishes and spooning heaping portions on Thor’s plate. The mayor’s daughter, Alina, sat beside Thor, and she told him all about the town and its people and its notable sights.

Thor knew the entire history of Nornheim by the time he scraped the last of the mashed potatoes from his plate. Thankfully, by the end of the meal, Alina seemed to be winding down.

“Oh, and a fairy lives in the to the north of the town,” she said.

“A fairy?” Thor paused, surprised by how casually Alina had mentioned it, as if it were no surprise to declare that a mythical creature resided near their lands. 

Alina nodded. “The children go there quite often to play - the fairy loves them. A man like you, though, best not to get too close. The fairy’s quite prickly around the grown, unless you bring a nice gift along with you.”

“Really,” Thor said. He’d heard tales about mystical beings such as these before, but that’s all they were - tales.

 

 

Thor spend the next weeks clearing a patch of land, removing weeds and stones from the surface and tilling the soil. He’d bartered seeds from another farmer, and he planted the crops row by row.

After weeks, Thor had settled into his routine. The plants grew steadily, green sprouts turning into stalks. The faster he became at his work, the more free time he had for wandering the village and the nearby lands. It was on an idle day that the memory of Alina’s story of a fairy crossed Thor’s mind. He didn’t believe it, really, but he was curious how that tale came to be. So he packed a bag of bread, cheese, and a book. He pondered his sword, wondering if he should bring it with him, but ultimately decided not to. It wasn’t as if he would find anything.

The trek out to the northern pond took Thor through a forest trail. The bushes were ripe with berries and the trees rich with foliage. The pond appeared in a far clearing, beyond a series of river stones. Its water glistened in the sunlight, and in the pond was a person - a figure with creamy pale skin and a fall of dark hair which clung to their upper body as they bathed.

Thor averted his eyes quickly, face heating and heart pounding. It wasn’t as if this was his first time seeing someone nude - he’d had plenty of experience with that - but there was something about this image that set his heart afire. The sunlight reflecting off the water that trailed down the figure, perhaps, or the way that inky black hair formed swirls over their skin.

A deep chuckle sounded in the clearing, followed by sounds of water rippling as the person came closer. They climbed out of the pond, and Thor, still with his eyes averted, wondered if he should apologize - do something - turn around--

“And what offering do you have for me, Thor Odinson?” the man - for he was a man - said. He drew a hand down Thor’s blazing cheek, scratching his fingers through Thor’s beard. Thor’s eyes snapped toward the man’s.

“How do you know my name?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” The man’s eyes twinkled, green and full of mischief. He was radiant in the sunlight, and Thor felt almost dizzy. Oh. Oh. So this was why they thought he was a fairy. He was simply too beautiful to be human.

“I don’t have much,” Thor said, almost regretting that he had not brought something fine and beautiful with him to impress this creature before him. “Just bread and cheese. A book.”

“A meal and entertainment. That sounds lovely,” the man said, looking at Thor with earnest delight. “Perhaps we can sit beneath a tree and enjoy them together.” 

“Yes,” Thor said, a bit stunned.

The man smiled, batting his dark eyelashes against his damp cheeks. “My name is Loki. The townspeople call me the fairy of the pond. In truth, I merely live nearby in the forest.” He licked a water droplet from his lips, and Thor watched the trail of his pink tongue across his curved, triumphant lips. “I eagerly look forward to getting to know you better, Thor.”


	72. Author

Thor saw the book for the first time when he was eight. It had been sitting in a glass case, propped open so people could look at the pages. It was old, its paper yellow and tattered, its leatherbound cover ratty and worn. Thor had been drawn to it instantly.

More than the old armor, more than the dinosaur skeletons, something about this book resonated with him. “What’s it called?” he asked his parents, just barely keeping himself from pressing his face to the glass. The strange symbols on the paper looked familiar, almost, even though he couldn’t read them. “What’s it about?”

“I’ve heard people call this the Immortal’s Diary.” Frigga smiled as she placed her hands on Thor’s shoulders. Thor vibrated beneath her hands, gazing up at the book in awe. “They say that this is a journal written by someone who has lived for centuries.”

“Whoa.”

“Your name is in this book,” Odin said, walking over to join them. He pointed at a line near the top of the page. “Do you see those runes? They’re unlike any language we’ve seen before. There are a few, however, which are stunningly similar to the runes of the old Norse language. Look at this one, with the horizontal triangle. Does that look familiar?”

Thor peered at the page, and when he noticed what his father pointed at, he brightened up. “That’s my name!” he cried out. “That’s the rune for Thor!”

“Indeed it is. Thor Odinson. Your name is written in this book.”

“Wow,” Thor breathed, starry-eyed.

Thor had to be dragged away to get through the rest of the museum. As they passed the gift shop, Thor tugged and wheedled at his parents’ sleeves. Odin and Frigga gave in, and they bought a replica of the Immortal’s Journal - empty, for Thor to fill himself.

Thor buzzed with excitement when he got home. He carried the journal in his arms, delighting in all the possibilities. He’d never had an interest in writing before, but he’d fantasized about all kinds of stories in his head, and now he thought about how amazing it would be to write them down for forever.

But there were so many stories he wanted to tell that by the time Thor sat down and opened the journal, pencil in hand, he had no idea where to start. He didn’t even know how he wanted to write his stories. The images flowed through his head, but it was difficult to turn them into words on the page. Thor tried his best. He wrote a story about princes and giants and battles and maidens, but when he reread what he’d written, he’d squinted and found that it sounded nothing like the images he’d seen in his head. He tried again the next day with another story, and then again on another day, but each time he ended up with something that just sounded wrong. Nothing he wrote was as exciting as how he imagined. Everything was vague, like he couldn’t remember exactly how the story was supposed to go, and none of the characters sounded right.

Eventually, Thor gave up. He just wasn’t good at writing. All it did was leave him frustrated. So he put his journal away, and focused on other things for a while.

He’d forgotten all about it for several years until one day, after he’d turned fourteen, when his mother had given him an unexpected gift.

Thor had been working on his math homework at the dining table when Frigga, who had just returned from shopping, placed a book beside him. “What’s this?” Thor asked, picking up the book. It was a sturdy, hardcover book, with a velvety dark green cover and title letters embossed in shiny gold.

“Do you remember going to the Smithsonian a few years ago? You were obsessed with one of the books on display there, the Immortal’s Diary. I heard this book is inspired by it.”

“Huh,” Thor said, reading the cover. _A Promise Ringed by Flowers_ , it was titled, with a subtitle beneath: _the first of the Hundred Lives series. Written by L. Laufeyson._

A hundred lives. Thor set the book down, feeling a strange buzz in his veins. He finished the rest of his homework quickly, maybe a little sloppily, and bounced up the stairs to his room with the book in hand.

Thor devoured the entire book in a matter of hours, glued to the pages. By the time he reached the last pages, it was dark outside. His mother was calling him for supper, but Thor sat on his bed, staring foggily at the acknowledgments page. He couldn’t believe it was already over.

This book was everything he had ever wanted. It captured perfectly the murky pictures in his head, brought to life feelings and voices he had imagined distantly but could never grasp. He felt alive reading this book. He’d blushed when he first read the romantic scenes between Thor and his male lover, Loki, but soon his heart grew to adore them. He wanted more. He didn’t want this story to end. He had cried when Thor and Loki finally married, and sobbed even harder when Loki had to watch his husband die and witness his funeral. Thor’s cheeks were still wet with tears, even as he stared blankly at the end of pages of the book in a stupor.

Hungry for more words, Thor eventually focused and read even the acknowledgements page.

 

 _With thanks to my friend and editor, Verity Willis, without whom I could not have published this book - and with love to Thor, wherever he may be._ -L. Laufeyson

 

Thor’s life changed from that moment on. He was ravenous for more of these stories, and his heart beat in a frenzy when he realized that this book was only the first of a series. He obsessively kept track of L. Laufeyson’s work, running to the bookstore every day a new release came in. By the time he was older, he’d learned to preorder each book to make sure it would be available for him to pick up.

Every single novel was like one of his childhood fantasies come to life. It was almost eerie, in fact. Thor could visualize every single scene with vivid clarity as if he were really there. The stories continued even into Thor’s dreams, where he dreamed of details and additional scenes that hadn’t been written in the books but which seemed so real, so fitting.

Nothing ever came close to affecting him the way these books did. And it made him wonder.

A hundred lives of reincarnations.

Thor found himself at the Smithsonian again, one day. He was twenty-eight years old; twenty whole years had passed since he last stood before the Immortal’s Journal. The book looked the same as it had back then. Strange, captivating, with runes writ in a language so familiar yet indecipherable.

Thor had looked at the online archives for the Journal, trying to see if he could find any other understanding in its pages. Yet through all the pages, there was only one word he could ever read. His own name, Thor. In every page, in almost every paragraph, his name. Thor. Thor.

Whoever had written this journal was always thinking about whichever ‘Thor’ that was, and it reminded him deeply of the book series - for the way L. Laufeyson wrote it, the protagonist, Loki, was always thinking about Thor. His husband, sometimes his brother, sometimes his enemy, sometimes a stranger, but always the one he loved most.

And it made Thor ache, to think that this kind of love existed - that someone could, over a hundred lives, over countless millennia, continue to choose the same person, no matter the circumstance, no matter the difficulty. That when Loki swore his vow to love Thor for all of eternity in that first book Thor had read, he had meant it. He had proved it, over the countless lives.

 

_Loki looked at Thor, a smile on his lips. His eyes were warm and full of affection. “Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you."_

 

-

 

Thor was thirty-six when he walked into a bookstore, holding his husband’s hand.

“Can you believe this?” his husband said snidely, gesturing to the book display. He pulled Thor over and grabbed a book. “They put this in the romance section! Next to - what is this, a vampire story?”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it,” Thor said.

His husband scoffed. “Romance. I write literature, Thor. Perhaps too advanced for the common masses to understand, if they wish to boil it down to romance.” He set the book down on the display with a thunk. The words _51st of the Hundred Lives series, written by L. Laufeyson_ glittered gold in the light. “They ought to give me my own display, really. I’m only the highest bestselling author, after all.”

“Well…”

“We do not acknowledge that other woman and her books,” Loki said darkly. Thor quickly switched tracks.

“I like knowing that people think your books are romances.” Thor picked up the 51st book and flipped it open. It was one of Thor’s favorites to date. He’d sat there with Loki while Loki wrote it, watching his husband curse at his laptop and spend half his time clicking away to random websites instead of writing. Thor looked over at his husband, and grinned upon seeing the scowl on his face. “I like knowing that everyone can see that these are stories about love. The love both of them have for each other.”

Loki’s scowl subsided, but only slightly. “Sap.”

“You’re the one who wrote it,” Thor said calmly, smiling as he once again took Loki’s hand in his.


	73. Buttoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on this day, horny people stopped having rights - Tumblr 2k18

Loki wasn’t sure if this was the most torturous or the most hilarious scenario he had ever encountered. He had always preferred to dress modestly - he enjoyed the secrecy that clothing provided, as well as the room for hidden pockets - but never had he been made to do so by society’s standards. In these lands, one must always wear clothing buttoned up to the neck, every inch of skin covered to the very tips of one’s hands and the toes of one’s feet. A single slip of ankle was enough to send a man into palpitations over the indecency of it all.

Thor watched with rapt attention as Loki tugged at his collar, dragging the white cloth down just an inch - enough to show a strip of Loki’s pale neck.

“The heat is stifling here, isn’t it,” Loki said. Not a single trace of sweat marred his skin. 

Thor, by contrast, was bright red. He knocked over a vase with his elbow and fumbled to catch it before it hit the ground. “Yes, right,” he said, strangled. “Pardon me, I believe - I ought to - I must go somewhere.” 

He rushed away before he could hear Loki’s laughter.


	74. Shadow

Be wary of the creature that dwells in the darkness, an old woman said to him. Her eyes were pale and blind with cataracts, but she stared unerringly over Thor’s shoulder. Thor smiled and thanked her, then left. His shadow trailed behind him.

A monster lived in Thor’s room. He had been four years old when it first appeared. He had gotten up in the middle of the night, thirsty. When he reached for the glass of water at his bedside, he’d accidentally knocked it over and shattered the glass. The sound of glass breaking, the guilt of his mistake, and the fear of not being able to get off his bed lest he cut up his feet, had all made him start crying.

That was when the door to his closet creaked open.

The monster had stepped out. It was tall, lanky, like a shadow of a man. It had two enormous curving horns, and its hair was a wild nest of curls. Thor couldn’t see its face, but its eyes were a bright blood red, and the skin of its body was a deep dark blue. 

Paralyzed at the sight, Thor could only watch as the monster came closer. He bawled, throat choked up from fear, little hands clutching his blanket tight. He thought the monster was going to eat him, and any moment now it would reach out its long, clawed fingers to tear him to pieces.

But instead, the monster stopped a short distance from his bed. It bent down and scraped at the floor. Thor heard the sounds of glass over wood and carpet, and when he looked down, he saw the monster picking up the glass shards Thor had dropped.

The monster held the glass carefully in its hands so that it wouldn’t drop a single piece. It straightened up, horns nearly brushing against the ceiling, and looked at Thor.

“You’re safe now,” the monster murmured to him, its voice low but warm. “Be more careful.” 

It returned to its shadows, slinking back into the gap of Thor’s closet door. But it always, always reappeared whenever Thor needed it.

“You’ll always stay by me, won’t you?” Thor asked into the air. He sipped from his mug of coffee, browsing the latest news on his phone. The shadow behind him vibrated, and Thor smiled. “Good,” he said. 


	75. Tower

Though he was the crown prince, Thor wasn’t allowed near the three northern towers of the castle. Only the Mages lived there - the three esteemed Mages who nourished the land with their spells and prayers. Each of them was chosen from a different kingdom, and they each lived alone in their towers, with no visitors ever to meet them.

Despite this, Thor climbed his way up one of the towers. He chose the leftmost one, cold and icy, with white frost marks blooming over the stone. Thor had begged the kitchens earlier for some snacks - bread and cheese, meats and bones, fruits and pastries - and he carried them in a bundle in his arms. He had carefully wrapped the morsels in his cloak to shield them from the cold, so by the time he made it up the tower, he was shivering.

It was worth it, though, for there at the top of the tower was his friend. He was a young boy, the same age as Thor. He had blue skin that looked like the color of a lake in the sunlight, and black, shiny hair that glistened like the feathers of a crow. The boy sat on the floor of his tower, surrounded by dozens of open books. He didn’t notice Thor had arrived until Thor called out, “Loki! I’m here!”

Loki sighed, his back facing Thor. He turned to reveal an exasperated expression on his face. “Prince Thor. So you’ve returned yet again.”

“Of course I have. I said I would.”

“And I said you should not,” Loki said. He returned to his book as Thor walked over, picking his way between the books scattered over the floor. 

“Are you still researching magic?” Thor asked, finding a place to sit beside Loki. It was warm in this spot, the sunlight staving off the cold of the frosty tower. He unpacked the bundle he had brought with him, revealing the spread of foods. Loki glanced over and picked up a pastry, nibbling on it as he read his book.

“Of course I am. It  _ is  _ my duty, after all.”

“I thought you already knew the magic for the spell?”

“There is always room for improvement,” Loki said.

Outside of the window, birds chirped and flew about through the clouds. Thor relaxed beside Loki, listening to the birdsongs. “You know, Mother and I went to a festival in Alfheim a few months back. The entire kingdom gathered to present their best pies and pastries. There were the most delicious treats there. We should go there someday - you’d love it.”

Loki flipped a page. “I’ll work hard to be able to see it,” he said. 

The three towers and their Mages were the life source of the Kingdom. For as long as the Mages lived and supplied the land with their magic, Asgard would remain fertile and bountiful. Yet the spell would collapse if the Mages were not there to power it, and that was why a Mage must always be taken to the tower where they would live out the rest of their lives, alone and never again being free.

Thor did not yet know this. And Loki, who had no intentions of submitting to this fate, did not tell him about it, either.

They sat in the sunlight, sharing food and chatting over nothing, and passed the afternoon just like that.


	76. Rush

Thor’s teammate slapped him upside the head, making Thor groan and jolt in the seat of his racecar. “Stop staring at him, dingbat!”

Across the road, the new racer - some rich boy who’d bought his way into the races, probably - stretched, his long, lean body curving, before he clambered into his carseat. Thor couldn’t stop staring at his damn green eyes, and couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at Thor like he was about to knock him down and devour him whole.

“We’re gonna beat ‘im,” Thor’s teammate said. “We’re gonna knock him flat on his ass, eh?”

Thor swallowed roughly. “Yeah.” He shoved his helmet over his head and tried not to think about how the other racer had looked over, thin lips curling into a smirk.


	77. Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crudely-implied bottom Thor and mpreg.  
> I want to see more bumbling Thor awkwardly pining for Loki's D. :')

“So you see, it just makes perfect sense,” Thor said, tugging nervously at his collar. He took a gulp of wine, and a passing waiter grabbed his now-empty glass. “You’re the last of your kind, and I’m a fertility god. I could - you could - you know, I’d be able to…” Thor made an awkward diagonal cutting motion down his hips. Then, realizing how improper it was to emphasize his own crotch at a formal intergalactic party, jerked his hands back up over his stomach. To finish the point he was trying to make, Thor pushed his hands out as if they were expanding around a swelling beach ball and immediately felt like an idiot.

Loki’s eyes flickered down the line of Thor’s pants. He sipped his wine elegantly, as if _he_ were the prince with hundreds of years of royal training and etiquette rather than Thor. Loki said, mild, “If you want me to fuck you, you could just say so.”


	78. Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim AU.

Winterhold was a bitter and freezing wasteland, and even a single breath caused the air to frost in one’s lungs. It was only fitting that the mages and magic-users of Skyrim would reside here, in this wretched spot of earth, Thor thought. There was nowhere else they would be accepted, them and their arcane secrets. Mages wreaked destruction upon the land, summoning fire and monsters, raising skeletons and undead servants, and proliferating in the shadows with the other dark creatures of the world. Thor, if he had any choice, would slaughter them all before daring to parlay with them.

Yet the Greybeards had bid Thor here in his quest to find the Elder Scroll, that which would tell him the secrets to defeating the treacherous destroyer of worlds, the dragon Alduin - and so here Thor went, traversing the endless snows and ice to step foot in the ruined city of Winterhold. 

Winterhold had thrived as the capital of Skyrim, once upon a time, but now it was only a shell of its former self. Half of it had sunk into the sea, and the other half was withering away, slowly being taken over by the magic-users who lived in their castle suspended over the cliff. 

The gatekeeper to the College of Winterhold accompanied Thor up the slopes, igniting a series of magical wells along the way to unlock the gate at the top of the suspended castle. Once there, a witch greeted Thor, likely assuming he was some sort of student - Thor cut her off with a grumble. He pried from her the directions to the Arcanaeum, and he set off, stomping across the stone and into the den of mages.

The library of the College of Winterhold was a mystical place, full of artifacts and antiques the likes of which Thor had never seen. The books and parchment collections were innumerable, and if Thor were the type of man who appreciated the arcane, perhaps he would have been overjoyed to see so much knowledge in once place. As it was, he merely cast a wary eye around the library, wondering what sinister tomes lay hidden in these shelves. 

He walked between the bookshelves and saw, at the end of the room, some sort of creature sitting at a desk. It had stacks of books in front of it, and it was writing something on parchment using a quill pen - overall looking very much like a man, yet unlike any man Thor had ever seen. Thor’s hand whipped toward his hammer, body tense, but he did not yet attempt any sort of attack.

“What manner of creature are you?” he asked, keeping his distance. Thor had plenty of experience fighting monsters of all sorts, and he was not afraid to fight another one now. If, however, this monster meant no immediate harm, then Thor was willing to let it live. Bloodshed upon the mages’ walls would bring greater battles upon Thor’s head than he wished.

The creature sitting at the desk continued writing with ease, as if it had heard nothing. When it finished its line, it swooped the last letter with an elegant curve, set down its quill pen, and looked up. Its eyes were a bloody bright red, unnerving next to its vibrant blue skin.

It spoke in the voice of a nobleman, refined, clear, and lightly snide, “You’ve never seen Orsimer before?”

“You’re no orc,” said Thor, casting his gaze over the creature’s face. He was… slender, with sharp angles. Large and bright eyes, high cheekbones, thin lips. There was no similarity to Orcs with their piggish noses, their broad and crude mouths from which protruded tusks, or their strong brows which weighed upon their faces like stones. This creature was delicate. Almost womanly in the way he was so slender. The only similarity Thor saw to an orc was, perhaps, in the sharpness of his ears and the strangeness of his skin. But even then, orcs had green skin, not blue. “You look more like a dark elf,” Thor said, though even that was not a perfect comparison. Elves were strange, elongated creatures with evil in their faces. This creature before Thor had a face which expressed only mild disinterest.

“Perhaps I could be, partially. Either way, I would hope the ambiguity of my parentage would not warrant me a hammer to my face. Will you strike me down, son of Odin, or will you be civil and tell me what you’re here for?”

Thor considered the creature before him and lifted his hand from his hammer. “How do you know who I am?” 

“You’re the Dragonborn, and you’re the son of High King Odin. Of course I know who you are. You’re not exactly subtle while wearing the crest of the royal family on your broach.”

“Alright,” Thor said. He walked forward to stand in front of the desk. From up close, there was something mesmerizing about the creature’s face. It pulled at Thor’s eyes. “Then who are you?” 

“A simple librarian. Call me Loki, if you must call me anything.”

“Loki,” Thor repeated, curling the syllables in his mouth. “Are you a mage, Loki?”

“I’m a sorcerer.”

He was dangerous, then. Hidden in that slender blue frame of his was power, ancient and strange. He could be the kind of mage who performed blood rituals with the skulls of innocents hanging on his walls, or who raised undead armies to conquer castles and slaughter soldiers.

Yet by all appearances, Loki looked absolutely ordinary sitting there at his desk with a beautifully-penned set of notes on recent library acquisitions before him. _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ was one of them.

“Those copies keep going missing,” Loki said, noting the direction of Thor’s gaze. “And I would rather requisition new ones than try to get back copies which are… used.”

“Understandable,” Thor said. Even mages had needs to attend to, he supposed. He found himself thinking briefly about what sorts of needs Loki needed tending to, and if he ever needed assistance - and almost immediately after wanted to slap himself. What was wrong with him, thinking of an orc - a mage - some blue-skinned red-eyed  _ creature  _ that way? No matter how pretty his eyes were, or how biteable the purple flush of his lips looked…

“As wonderful as it is to have you standing over me in silence, I do have a job to get to, Odinson. Is there anything I can help you with, or are you fine taking care of yourself?”

“Uh.”  Thor cast back into his mind, searching wildly for the reason he had come here, but in the end, he could not even remember anything about dragons, or Elder Scrolls, or the old Greybeards who’d told him to come here. In the end, he came up with, “Do you get out of here often?”

Loki blinked, looking at Thor as if gazing at a particularly dim-witted cow. 

“Not as often as I’d like,” Loki said slowly, considering. “It’s a dangerous time for travel. There are places I’d wish to go, but only if I had someone to accompany me, of course…” 


	79. Fish

“So, guys, found anything yet?” Tony asked into the com. He shot a few lasers at the AIMbots and androids creeping through the hallways. The AIM scientists, those nasty terrorist assholes, were scrambling to evacuate the base. Tony saw a few of them run toward a shuttle that would take them off-planet, but Tony wasn’t worried. Nat had already locked down all launches. There wasn’t anywhere to go except the Quinstar, and Tony hoped for their sakes that the AIM guys didn’t try to get on that. Not while Bruce was on board.

“All clear over here,” Hawkeye said, the muffled sounds of his heat rifle in the background.

“Thor and I just found our way into a - basement, locked door, needs an access code,” Cap said. “Think you can come over here and check it out, Tony?”

“You got it, Cap.” Tony powered on the boosters of his suit and flew over. JARVIS loaded up a map of the area, and Tony followed the blueprints to find the glowing blue and red dots that were his two favorite blond beefcakes. They stood in front of a heavy locked-down access door, the kind that wouldn’t give even under blast from a death ray. Tony whistled. “Some serious security there. Hold on, let me check out their cyberdefense. AIM’s shit at it, so it shouldn’t take long.” 

It took only a couple of minutes to hack into the network and get the door open. It slid slow and heavy. The doors were made of metal a foot thick, and Tony’s suit sensors flashed a warning. The air rushing from the gap was at least thirty degrees cooler.

Once the doors finished opening, they all peered into the next room. It was a lab, alright, but different from what you’d usually expect to see in an AIM base. AIM focused on machines, weapons, all sorts of mech - they didn’t engage in bioresearch. But there were a couple of frozen cryochambers ahead, the glass all frosted up, and they instantly set flags off in Tony’s mind. 

Cap shared feeling. His brows knitted, and he motioned in the air. “Tony, Thor, behind me. Let’s check this out.” 

“What’s going on?” Nat asked over the com.

“Found what looks like a lab,” Cap reported. “Got at least 20 cryochambers.”

“Need backup?”

“Not right now. Find out what you can from the scientists.”

“Roger that,” Nat said. 

Tony, Cap, and Thor spread out in the room, checking out the cryochambers. There were all sorts of aliens in there - strange ones that Tony had never seen. They looked similar to different species, but there was something off about them, something…

“They’re hybrids,” Cap said, voice flat. 

Tony wrenched his head up. “What?”

“Humanoid experimentations. They’ve been messing with living beings.” Cap’s voice held so much fury that it was deadly still. Tony turned slowly, looking to cryochamber Cap was at. There was - some sort of nightmare bug-man, was what Tony saw. Parts of it looked human, but other parts…

“Friend Steve.” Thor came up and put a hand on Cap’s shoulder, the weight of his big beefy Asgardian strength seeming to stabilize Cap - or at least keep him from flying off the handle. “I understand this reminds you of your friend, but we must first focus on these beings. Friend Tony, will you be able to find any information on who and what they are? If they are of mind, it is our duty to provide rescue.”

And if they weren’t, they had to pull the plug. “Yeah, leave it to me.” Tony drifted over to a computer station and started to break into it. “Nat, any of the AIM guys spilled their secrets yet?”

“Not much.” Nat’s voice was just as chilly as this room. “They keep saying not to touch Subject K1. They say he’s dangerous. He’ll come after all of them, and won’t stop at just AIM, either. He’ll go after everyone.”

“Yikes,” Tony said. “So they’ve bred at least one crazy homicidal alien hybrid, good to know.” Tony kept searching through files - bunch of fucked-up records of experiments, test logs. He eventually dug up a list of subjects, but the triumph left swiftly. “Ah, shit,” he said, feeling sick. 

It was a list of 51 experiments, named by letters and numbers. There was a column on the left side that stated plainly their status, and all down the first fifty names was the word: EXPIRED.

“Expired, like they were fuckin’ gallons of milk, Jesus,” Tony muttered. “Guys, there’s only one of them still alive. And it looks like it’s… Subject K1.”

“Bring up their record, Tony. Widow, keep pressing. Thor, with me. We’re finding them. Hawkeye, status?”

“Keepin’ an eye on the scientists with Nat,” Clint said. “Gotta say, Cap, this is a whole new level of fucked up.”

Tony kept digging through the servers. Looked like AIM had taken over a HYDRA base and found this whole shebang in it. They had no idea what to do with live subjects, so one by one, the subjects died in their chambers. The few that AIM had tried releasing had died soon after leaving the cryochambers, too - their genetic makeup was still too ‘flawed’, according to the old HYDRA notes. It was all horrific.

But apparently, there was one ‘success’ noted in the HYDRA records. Subject K1. It was capable of breath, movement, higher thoughts, and communication - but it was violent, and killed several scientists before being contained. It had enough strength to break through a heavy mech suit instantly, ripping the rider right out of the pilot seat. It had some sort of biotic ability, too; anything touching its skin would instantly freeze. It was a quick death for any living beings.

“Yeah, uh, this is looking prety intense,” Tony said, looking further down the file. “Think we might need some planning to get this guy out. A containment procedure. Definitely should not let him out until--”

Tony heard a yelp, a thud, and a sudden whoosh of air that signified a cryochamber opening.

“...Until we know how to handle this,” Tony finished. “Guys, you need to get back right now, whoever’s in there is dangerous and could quite possibly kill you with just a - oh shit--”

Tony had spun around and blasted himself to where his teammates stood in front of a cryochamber, tucked all the way at the back of the room. He’d reached his arms out, intending to either drag them back or keep his weapons ready for whatever came out - but whatever was in there was fast, and Tony couldn’t do anything to stop it from falling directly on Thor. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit, Thor, drop it, get it off,” Tony rambled, hurtling toward Thor as fast as he could, sweat falling down the back of his neck. Shit, Asgardians were sturdy as hell, but even they weren’t immune to instant-killing frostbite--

But Thor turned around, blinking, his mouth hidden by a wave of silky black hair. Hair that was attached to the being, alien hybrid,  _ whatever _ , that currently had its arms wrapped around Thor’s shoulders. Thor, for his part, had apparently played the dashing prince and had caught the damn alien by wrapping his own arms around its waist. 

“Tony?” Cap asked. He looked surprised, too, but he schooled himself into seriousness. He looked ready to throw down the second the alien made a move, which was somewhat reassuring. 

“Uh,” Tony said, getting a better look at Thor, who continued to look baffled at both Tony and at the alien in his arms. He didn’t seem like he was instantly freezing up like a strawberry dipped in liquid nitrogen, so Tony directed his attention to whoever Thor was holding, instead. Blue. Very, very blue, like, blueberry-blue skin. Also, it had a giant fucking  _ fish tail _ instead of legs. “Holy shit. Is that a mermaid?”

The mermaid tensed up in Thor’s arms.

Thor blinked a little, looking down at the black-haired top of the mermaid’s head. Then he looked at Tony and said, befuddled, “Though I am unsure of how I know this, I believe he wishes to tell you to, ‘Stuff it, Stark.’”

“Huh,” Cap said.

 

 

“I can’t believe we brought him on board,” Tony ranted, pacing in his workshop on the ship. Nat perched herself on one of the metal workdesks, idly chewing on a piece of space gum. “He can read minds! He can freeze people just by brushing a pinky on them! He can shove his arms through a meter of reinforced alloy! Does no one else see a problem with this?”

“Your concerns are valid,” Nat said, sounding utterly unconcerned.

“Valid,” Tony repeated. He stopped pacing and pointed at her. “But?”

“But, he can’t actually read minds, for one. Thor says it’s some sort of mental thought projection that lets Thor hear him. And for two - it’s pretty hard for him to look half as threatening as you say when all he does is snuggle with Thor and pout whenever Thor leaves for longer than a minute.”

“He hissed at me! Remember that time he just grinned, like  _ this,  _ and showed off all of his very, very  _ pointy  _ teeth? I’m pretty sure he threatened to eat me. Is that not threatening to you? At all?”

“Not to me, no.”

“Oh my god,” Tony lamented, spinning around. “Why am I asking a galactic assassin? Of course a murderous mermaid doesn’t make you bat an eye.”

“Nope,” Nat agreed. She popped her gum. “What does make me bat an eye, though...” she started.

Tony spun back around. “What?”

She chewed her gum. Looked Tony in the eye. “So. Thor’s been making some interesting searches lately. A lot of fish anatomy, particularly--”

“Oh my fucking god,” Tony said.


	80. Roleplay

"Please, professor Odinson. I'll do anything to pass the class," Loki breathed, looking up at Thor with wide, watery, long-lashed eyes. He kneeled in front of Thor, a hand stroking Thor's knee. Thor coughed, shifting nervously in his seat.

"Loki - Mr Laufeyson. That's completely inappropriate. It goes against everything I believe in as an academic--"

"But perhaps you could make an exception?" Loki's fingers stroked the insides of Thor's thighs, reaching for the zipper of Thor's khakis. Thor, in a panic, grabbed Loki's wrists.

"Loki!" Thor blurted, flustered as he looked down at the man between his knees. "You're a brilliant student - you don't have to do this for your grades. You can make it up with an essay, a - re-examination--"

Loki's eyebrow ticked. "But professor," he purred, with an edge to his voice. He yanked his hands from Thor's grasp and settled them back on Thor's thighs, gripping the thick muscle tightly. "I _want_ to."

Thor flushed. "Loki, listen. You have so many other options. Let's talk about it. Maybe you can--"

Loki wrenched open the fly of Thor's pants, pulling out Thor's half-hard dick and stroking it furiously. "Thor, shut up. Just let me suck your fucking cock. Norns, why are you such a--" Whatever else he said was muffled after Loki popped the head of Thor's cock in his mouth and swallowed the length down. Thor grunted, mortified, his hands flying over his face.

"Oh god, Loki, slower, I'm not going to--"

Loki pulled off with a slick sound, one hand still stroking Thor's cock. "Were you actually getting off on that? Was telling me to write an essay your idea of foreplay? You would enjoy that, wouldn't you, clinging to your moral high ground while making me beg for the right to suck your cock."

Thor whined, beet-red, curled up in his chair with his legs spread wide around his kneeling brother. "I'm not good at this, Loki."

"Then I suppose I should be the one to teach you," Loki muttered darkly. He licked a stripe up Thor's cock and lapped at the head before swallowing it deep in his mouth again. Thor dropped his head back, gasping, skin already feeling tight. Yes, that was what he wanted - Loki teaching him, Loki demanding Thor to learn exactly how to please him best.

"Loki, I'm going to--"

Loki hummed, pleased, and closed his eyes. That alone was enough to make Thor shiver and shoot down his brother's throat with a hoarse groan. 


	81. Silk

The Palace of Jotunheim sent their eldest prince in a lavish carriage of white wood and silver ornaments. The dowry followed him in a trail of wagons, full of treasures and riches - not meant to honor the prince, but to appease the new state of peace with Asgard.

The crippled prince was just one more gift they sent, though none in Jotunheim understood why the Asgardian heir demanded him. Why not Byleistr, intelligent and wise, or Helblindi, strong and youthful? Murmurs spread amongst the common people quickly: the Asgardian prince, dissatisfied with the end of the war, must have wanted a souvenir he could make squeal from torment whenever he wished.

Prince Loki remained silent. After the proclamation came from Asgard, his venomous tongue went still. He went along with the subsequent proceedings as docile as a lamb to slaughter.

The carriage arrived in Asgard after a fortnight of travel. A retinue of Asgardian guards and servants greeted the eldest Jotun prince - soon to be the Crown Prince’s consort - and ushered him into his personal wing at the Asgardian Crown Prince’s palace. 

The entire wing was gleaming and spotless. The servants carried Loki to his chambers, setting him upon a bed made of the softest downs, a dozen fluffed pillows propped at the head. 

Loki was like a jewel, carefully guarded, with only the softest of materials given to him so that no part of him would ever be damaged. The servants presented him with delicacies of both Jotun and Aesir palettes, and they attended to his every need with the utmost care.

By the time Thor finally arrived, Loki had been waiting for weeks. A servant quietly informed Loki that the Crown Prince requested permission to enter, and a few minutes later, Thor stood at the entrance to Loki’s bedroom.

Thor was as grand of a presence as he always was, beautiful and golden, his long hair a wave on his shoulders. He had dressed in one of his finest armors, the red cloak over his shoulders rich in color, his entire outfit impeccably clean and well-presented. The last time Loki had seen him was on the battlefield, where Thor had been caked with mud and dirt, blood streaked over his face. 

Thor walked over and took Loki’s hand in his own. The smile on Thor’s face was gentle, his grip as coddling and smothering as the soft silks and pillows of Loki’s bed. He spoke words of tenderness. He would give Loki as much time as he needed. He would like to get to know Loki better and wished to share meals with him every now and then. Until the day Loki reciprocated his feelings, Thor would not touch him. It was as if Thor thought Loki was some breakable, fragile object which would crumble under the slightest bit of pressure.

Loki kept his silence, blinking at Thor, observing the way Thor gazed at him with such gentleness. Underneath it all, Loki saw clearly the utter possession with which Thor held him.

Thor had locked Loki into a silken, pillowed cage. He thought he could imprison Loki forever, as if the softness of his words and touches would hide the iron behind his bars. The more Loki struggled, the tighter Thor’s grip on him would become - so Loki remained complacent, compliant. He was willing to wait and see just how far Thor would go. He wanted to see how deep Thor’s possession ran. He wanted to know how much Thor wanted to keep him.


	82. Loyal

“My, my, what a mangy thing you are.”

The beast growled, baring its teeth. It snarled feebly as the man approached, but it was too weak to stand.

The man scooped the beast into his arms, his long fingers trailing over its fur and wounds. The fall of his dark hair brushed over the beast’s snout, the scent of lilac and herbs wafting into the beast’s faint consciousness.

“Shhh,” hushed the man, caressing the beast’s fur. “I have you, love.”

 

 

In the height of spring, several months later, the man sat on his porch. His chair was surrounded by herbs and flowers, a splash of sunlight falling over the open book in his hands. The man read it idly, flipping pages at an easy pace. After some time, he called out, “Darling, come back.”

The distant tall grasses and flowers rustled. Out from the forest brush bounded a dog, its long golden fur bouncing with each step. The beast ran up the porch and to the man’s feet, wagging its tail. It woofed, lolling its tongue when the man reached down to scratch at the beast’s fluffy ear. The beast sat and nuzzled into his soft palm.

“You mustn’t go too far,” the man reminded. “Else I won’t know where you are.” The beast’s tail thumped on the ground. Whining, the beast looked up with beseeching eyes and pawed at the man’s leg, little snout sniffling at his knee. The man laughed, low and soft, and moved his book over. He reached down and helped the beast up, letting it settle on his lap.

They passed the rest of the afternoon like that, the man reading while petting the beast on his lap, and the beast sleepily thumping its tail while feeling warm and safe.

 

 

The beast grew over the years. It had once been shorter than the man’s knee, barely able to see past the forest grasses. Now it towered over all, standing at the height of the man’s cottage. 

The beast remained unchanged at heart. Its tongue lolled at the sight of its friend, and it woofed, deep and sonorous, to attract his attention.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” the man said, adjusting the things he wore over his body. He gripped the beast’s fur and climbed up, swinging a leg over the beast’s back. 

When the man had settled, the beast stood. It trotted into the forest, gaining speed until it bounded through with the man riding along its back.

The man enjoyed collecting things from around the wildlands, and the beast enjoyed accompanying him. Today they went to an open field far from the man’s home. It was only a small run for the beast to cross, but it would take the man days to reach. The beast laid in the field of golden flowers, watching the man harvest his plants. When he was done, the man sat in the flower field and laid his head in the beast’s soft fur. He caressed a small part of the beast’s side, his eyes closed and relaxed. They laid there in the warm sunlight for quite a while, the flowers swaying around them.

 

 

There were many things that the beast did not understand, but it did know love. 

And so, when the humans came into the forest with their weapons and their fires, intending to surround the man's home, the beast snarled and launched at them.

The battle was fierce. The human weapons were like fangs tearing into the beast’s skin, and though the beast howled with pain, it did not give up. It would die protecting the man, it knew.

_ “Thor!”  _

The man’s voice cut through the air, reedy with fear. He appeared at the treeline, his eyes wide and horrified, and he rushed to the beast’s side. The beast knocked over the humans around it, sending them to their backs just as the man reached the beast. The man gripped the beast’s fur. “Thor - my love, we have to go.”

It took only a second for the beast to swing the man onto its back. It had to get the man to safety, away from these humans with their metal fangs. It ran into the forest, as fast as it could - but it could not stop an archer from launching an arrow at the man’s back.

The low cry of pain was the worst sound the beast had ever heard. The man hunched over, but he urged the beast to keep running - so the beast ran, ran until they were far from the humans, stopping in some distant nook of forest where not even crickets dared to chirp. 

The man fell to the ground, the scent of blood thick in the air. The beast whined in terror, not stopping even when the man sat up. The beast butted up against the man, nearly covering his body as it tried to shield him against some invisible enemy that would try to take him from it. 

“Shhh,” the man hushed, caressing the beast’s nose. His chest rose and sank with shallow breaths, his eyelids weakly fluttering. “I’m sorry, love. You need - you need to go, now.”

The man tried to push the beast away, but the beast refused, whining desperately, unwilling to go even a step away from the man. The man, seeing that, let out a hoarse laugh.

“Always so foolishly loyal.”

He stopped trying to push the beast away. He wrapped his arms around the beast’s snout, laying his head upon the warm fur. The man’s heartbeat was gradually growing weaker. The caresses of his hands slowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The beast trembled in the man’s embrace, its ears pressed down around its head. 

It remained there, waiting, as if the man would suddenly sit back up, as if he would smirk and say,  _ “Fooled you - I’m alright!” _

But the man did not move. 

The beast shook and cried, weak wails escaping its throat. It curled around the man, trying to keep him warm in its fur, even though it knew - it knew - he was gone.

It had failed. It had failed to protect him. It had failed to keep him safe. The beast howled, the depths of its grief tearing its heart to pieces.

If it could only have a second chance--

If it could only meet this man again--

If only there were another life where the beast could curl around him and keep him warm, where nothing would hurt the man because the beast would be there to protect him.

In the next life, this wouldn’t happen.

In the next life, Thor would keep him safe. 

In the next life--

In the next life--


	83. Missing

There is a name on Thor’s lips that fades every time he wakes. He doesn’t know what he’s searching for, but his heart says: don't stop looking.  



	84. Arranged

Everyone says that Loki is a frost giant, but he looks just like any other boy. His skin is pale rather than blue, and his eyes are bright green rather than red. Even when Thor touches his skin, Loki doesn’t feel cold at all.

The tutors and the storybooks say that frost giants are all monsters, but Loki doesn’t look or act like any monster Thor has ever seen. He’s quiet, and he reads too much, and maybe sometimes he says mean things, but most of the time he’s the only one willing to go along with Thor’s plans.

Loki is Thor’s best friend. It doesn’t matter what anyone says about frost giants, because Thor knows the stories aren’t true. Frost giants aren’t stupid and cruel. They’re not evil monsters. They’re picky eaters who like sweet things, and they become lazy in the middle of the day and refuse to do anything other than lay on a sofa and read a book, and they think sparring is boring and would rather study seidr instead. 

The first time Loki meets a real frost giant, it’s when King Laufey comes to Asgard for an important event. King Laufey is exactly the kind of frost giant Thor had read about in stories - enormous and blue, with skin as sharp and rocky as shards of ice. He didn’t look like Loki’s father, but that was apparently who he is. Or, at least, that’s what Thor understands when Father and King Laufey start talking about marrying their sons in the name of peace.

Thor doesn’t remember much about that day, except how he had looked across the audience hall to see Loki staring right back at him. Loki didn’t look surprised at all when Father said that Thor would be marrying Loki, prince of Jotunheim, son of Laufey. He seemed as if he had known all along.

“What does it mean if we get married?” Thor asks him later, after King Laufey goes back to Jotunheim. They’re sitting in one of their hidden places in the palace courtyards, changed out of their formal wear and into their normal outfits. 

Loki’s hair looks a little different today - it looks more slicked-back and tidy. He’s pretty. “A lot,” Loki says. “It means we have to work together to rule Asgard and the Nine Realms, like your mother and father do.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all that’s expected of a political marriage. We’ll have to produce an heir, too, but we won’t have to think about that for a long while.”

“What about other stuff that comes with marriage?” Thor asks. He shuffles his feet over the stone, thinking about stories of princesses and knights. They all got happily ever afters.

“We’ll take that as it comes,” Loki says. 

A pit forms in Thor’s stomach. He tries to act like he’s not thinking too much about it when he says, “You don’t think we should try to… I d’no… fall in love?”

Loki just looks at him.

“I already love you,” Loki says. “I will forever. But I don’t expect that just because we’ll be getting married means you’ll feel the same.”

“Um.” Thor’s face is beet red. “I, uh, um--”

“Don’t think about it for now,” Loki says. He gets up smoothly, dusting off his trousers like he hadn’t just knocked Thor’s heart into the air. “Once you’re older, you can come to a decision about how you want our relationship to go.”

  
  


After hitting puberty, Thor is pretty sure there isn’t anyone else he’d want to marry. When he’s an adult, he’s certain of it - and on the day of their marriage, when Loki smirks at him in the middle of the handfasting ceremony, all Thor can think about is taking Loki to bed and loving his husband in all of the ways known to man.


	85. Ordinary

Tom Lucas Silver was an ordinary government employee, or so his records indicated. He worked as a low-ranking information analyst in the I-branch of the agency, and was just one of the grunts who collected information, collated it, and put it in files for the handlers and agents to work off. There wasn’t anything about him that stood out. Even the photo in his file was ordinary - he was a thin man with greasy black hair, thick glasses, and a large nose. 

Thor shouldn’t be spending so much time thinking about him. He’d only had one phone conversation with the man during a mission. A target had unexpectedly come his way, and Thor diverted attention with the old pretend-phone-call trick. Except he’d accidentally dialed the MI6 helpline and apparently said enough gibberish to make the system transfer him over to information assistance, where he’d been connected with Luke.

Thor remembered with haunting clarity the sound of Luke’s voice, velvet and mesmerizing. They had chatted for as long as it took for Thor to get in position without drawing attention. Luke had taken the whole strange situation in stride, seeming to understand what was happening with even the subtlest of hints and cues. 

The man was cuttingly smart, well-spoken, and quick-witted. Thor gleaned all of that from a single short conversation. But the record of the man in front of him didn’t match that at all.

Quiet, the supervisor notes read. Keeps to himself. Does not show much initiative, but is loyal and hardworking. Stiff manners and soft-spoken.

It was the kind of description one would expect from a typical nerdy analyst - someone lacking in social skills, but with the right kind of brain to do grunt research labor at the computer. There was something that didn’t match up. Thor stared with half-lidded eyes at Luke’s photo, thinking.

Tom Lucas Silver was hiding something. 

Thor wouldn’t be one of the agency’s top agents if he couldn’t figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there's so much potential for all kinds of Thorki spy AUs. Loki as Thor's handler/quartermaster! Or Loki and Thor as rival spies! Or Loki as a secret agent pretending to be a normal person while accompanying Thor, a policeman/detective! So many goodies to think about.


	86. Earned

Thor’s brother refuses to speak to him.

To be fair, he refuses to speak to anyone but their mother. He’s quiet and small, always with dark, downturned eyes. Whenever he sees Thor, he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. He keeps away from Thor, practically runs whenever they’re in the room together. 

Thor isn’t sure why. It’s not as if he’s ever done anything to Loki. His brother is fine around the housekeepers. He clings to Frigga’s skirt whenever she’s around, but always reluctantly lets go whenever she has to leave. 

Odin, though.

Loki at least looks at Thor. Around Odin, he just shuts down. No expression. No reaction. It’s as if their father isn’t even there.

And Odin doesn’t like that. At all.

Loki might be scared of Thor, but Thor is still his big brother. So Thor sits in front of Loki, blocking him from Odin’s view. He picks up a stuffed bear and makes it dance in front of Loki, who sits as stiff as a piece of cardboard, until Odin huffs and moves to another room. Their father is always busy with this or that thing, a call or a meeting or a dinner, so Loki only has to suffer Thor’s presence for a little bit before Odin leaves.

It’s fine.

It hurts that his little brother is scared of him, but what matters to Thor is just keeping him safe, no matter what.

In the beginning, when Thor had been a young teenager and Loki had been only a few years old, Thor had resented his adopted little brother. The way Loki avoided him had made Thor feel defective, like he’d done something wrong just by existing.

Now, though, Thor understands. Loki doesn’t trust people easily. Thor was never entitled to Loki’s love and trust just because they were made family. He had to earn it, and Thor hadn’t.

Thor’s sprawled on the couch, lying on his back with a tablet propped up on his chest. He’s reading an ebook on communication - it’s important to him, now, to learn how to speak in a way that’s empathetic and nonaggressive, to be someone that’s easy and safe to talk to - and he’s flipping the virtual pages with one hand. His other arm is propped on his stomach, still wrapped in a gauze bandage. It throbs with pain, but Thor’s doing a good job of keeping his mind off it. There’d been an accident in the kitchen a few days back which ended up with Thor getting some boiling water splashed over his arm. It sucked, but all he had to do was let it heal.

He’s so focused on the book that he doesn’t notice Loki until a small hand touches his shoulder. Thor nearly jumps. Loki stands beside him, looking at Thor with a pensive expression. 

Thor sits up in surprise, heart beating fast. He smiles at Loki, hoping his smile isn’t too wide, too stiff, too weird - anything that might make Loki back away. “Hey, Loki,” he says, as casual as he could get it. “What’s going on? You alright?”

Loki bobs his little head. He’s looking at Thor’s arm, now, looking at the bandage. 

“Oh, are you worried about this?” Thor raises his gauze-wrapped arm a little. “Hey, that’s really nice of you. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Just a little burn. It’ll heal up real quick.”

Loki turns his gaze on Thor. His eyes are big and watery. He looks like he feels guilty, and Thor’s heart tears to shreds.

“No, really. It’s alright. Not your fault. So I got a little burned by some water - so what? As long as you’re alright, it’s okay! Doesn’t hurt one bit.”

Thor injects as much bravado as he can. He doesn’t want Loki to feel sad over something like this. 

Loki continues to look at Thor, wordless and considering. Thor feels like he’s under a microscope, skin prickling with tension, and it’s that tension that makes him jump when Loki climbs up on the couch next to him. Loki ignores Thor’s stiff movements, curling up next to Thor like a little kitten. He seems content to cuddle up next to Thor, so after several minutes where Thor sat stock-still, heart beating out of his chest, Thor slowly settles his arm down next to Loki. He tries to keep reading his book, but it’s difficult when Loki yawns and snuggles against him, and all Thor wants to do is wrap him up in hugs and blankets.


	87. Record

The hardest part was always starting over, knowing that everything he had done - everything he had lost - was gone forever. 

Loki starts writing everything down for his own sake. He wants to remember. He doesn't want to lose any memories, even the painful ones. He's dreadfully sentimental at heart, after all. It feels right to chronicle what happened, to leave physical proof behind that he existed, and that all of these memories were real.

He sits in his cell of the monastery, writing by the light of a single candle. He goes down the list of memories, adding entry after entry.

In the end, he fills the journal only a tenth of the way through. Loki goes to a market and orders a crude version of a safe from a blacksmith. As he places his journal inside, readying to bury it in a secret spot of earth, he wonders if some day he will find this book again and once more fill its pages.


	88. Guile

The interrogators went through fifty captured warriors before one of them broke.

“You want to know the General’s secrets?” the warrior repeated. He laughed, spitting blood on the ground. “Oh, he’s got one. Won’t do you any good to know, though.”

The interrogators listened to what the prisoner had to say. When he was done, they disposed of him and reported to their superiors.

Thor of Aes, General of the Kingdom of Asgard, had a male lover who accompanied him through his campaigns. According to the warrior, the lover was a whore that had caught the General’s eye. He stayed in the General’s tent, drinking wine and lounging in bed whilst the General and the warriors fought and bled for their kingdom. The only thing he was good for was keeping the General’s cock wet.

The commanders considered this report and ordered the capture of the General’s lover. The whore would be excellent bait to weaken the Asgardian general.

  
  


In the depths of the enemy prison, Loki laughed. He slipped his wrists from the shackles and casually dusted off his clothing. It was all far too easy, honestly.


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fudging a bit and using an abandoned ficlet (with some expansion). My one brain cell is working on my thorki secret santa fic... :')

Loki had been in a strange mood the entire week. Thor had noticed early, but he did not mention it. 

Loki’s eyes had grown dark; the shadows on his face had grown longer, perhaps because his head was turned down and no longer raised in arrogance and pride. 

Loki’s moods always swung, and he had made it clear that Thor’s meddling, his coddling, was unwanted. So Thor waited to see if Loki would return to his usual state. Even as he drank and made merry at the feasting tables, he kept an eye trained on his brother, who only seemed to sink deeper into the shadows.

It was at the end of the week that Loki finally came to him. His body was wound tightly; he moved with jerks and snappish motions, as if he might explode at any moment. 

When Thor opened his bedroom door, Loki set upon him with fierce bites that nearly drew blood. Thor stumbled back, Loki in his arms. His heart pounded, not from lust, but from fear: Loki was always the careful one. He was the one who made sure they were never caught, never seen. He was not the one to recklessly throw himself at Thor. Thor gripped Loki tightly with an arm while slamming his bedroom door shut with the other. He did not return Loki’s kiss with as much passion as his brother wanted, for Loki growled and tugged at Thor’s collar. 

“Well?” Loki snapped. “Are we going to do this, or not?” His face was pale. Thor raised a hand to his cheek, and Loki slapped it away. “I do not want your kindness, Thor.”

“Then what?”

“Be angry.” Loki grinned, savage, his eyes glistening and alight with a strange sort of madness. “Hate me. Strike me. Throw me onto your bed and take me, as if I were an enemy you sought to conquer. Don’t you think about it, sometimes, brother, how you might get your revenge for all of the times I have slighted you? Don’t you think about how I need to be tamed, need to be  _ punished  _ for all of the things I have done?”

Baffled, Thor gripped Loki’s arms. “Brother, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play an idiot. I know it’s in you. The rage, the hate. You must feel it when you look at me. Even when you love me, you detest me in equal amounts. Don’t you?”

“No.” The fervent and sure look in Loki’s eyes made Thor’s heart quaver in fear. He’d never seen his brother this way. He’d never even considered any of the things Loki was saying, and the way Loki seemed so certain… “Brother, you must be ill.” Thor tightened his grip on Loki, feeling the way Loki tensed and seemed ready to struggle. “I have never thought such things of you. There must be some sickness of the mind which plagues you, and has caused you such worries over the past week.”

Something flickered through Loki’s eyes.  Loki quickly masked it over with a sneer. “If there is any sickness, it comes from the rot inside me. There is nothing for the healers to touch.” Loki tried to wrench himself from Thor’s grasp, but Thor, in a panic, seized him close. Loki let out a low growl but settled.

“Then what is on your mind? What distresses you so?” Thor couldn’t stand to see his brother so weighed down by whatever treacherous thoughts leeched him. If the burden were shared and released to the air, perhaps Loki’s heart would not be so heavy. Loki did not meet Thor’s eyes. His gaze was distant, looking to the ground as his lips curled in a soundless snarl. 

“Let me go,” he snapped.

“Not until you tell me, Loki.” Thor kept Loki locked in his grip, even when Loki twisted about and wrestled against Thor’s hold. Thor ended up pinning Loki to the wall, growling as Loki tried to slip away. “Calm, brother!”

Loki’s chest heaved. His mouth pulled into a grin, toothy and wide and sinister - but he couldn’t hide how his eyes were wet with tears. “If only you remembered,” he said. “You wouldn’t call me that any longer.”


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five years ago, I read a story called [Bodies in Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/785559) by ladysisyphus. The way it wrapped with such a beautiful perspective on existence left a monumental mark on me. This chapter is a simplified version and interpretation of what ladysisyphus wrote six years ago. It's nowhere near as beautiful, but I wanted to include this chapter to begin the theme of tying up threads and cycles meeting their ends and new beginnings. If you want to read something incredible, I really recommend reading ladysisyphus' story for the full construction of this conclusion.

Thor didn’t remember the walk from the hospital to the train station. His head felt like marbles scattered across a sidewalk, clattering and rolling in unknown directions. His clothes still smelled like antiseptic, and his hand kept clenching and unclenching. It was remembering the feeling of a touch he’d never have again.

The train horn’s blare streaked in front of him. Thor saw open doors, and he got on. He found himself clinging to a handrail, not really looking at anything, just swaying.

It was early in the day, when most people were at work. The metro car was nearly empty.

There was someone sitting by the doors. A man reading a book. Thor’s gaze drifted his way and, somehow, couldn’t leave.

The man was just there, wrapped in a dark coat. He flipped the pages of his book serenely, reading with a contented expression on his face. The sunlight cast a soft glow over his dark hair and pale skin, making him look otherworldy, as if he existed somewhere else, somewhere far beyond where Thor was.

The man was from a place like a movie where nothing bad happened. He was from a place of light and laughter, a place where everything was at peace. He was somewhere so distant that even the five steps between him and Thor seemed impassable. He was a tableau of happiness, and Thor was far out of frame, not a single part of him included in that picture.

Thor couldn’t help the way he stared. It was meditative, almost, to watch the man flip the pages, and to see the way the man’s lips raised in a smile.

Thor didn’t know how many train stops came and went. He didn’t care, anyway. He was a loose marble rolling on the ground. It didn’t matter where he was or where he would end up.

He just watched the man, the passage of time measured by the intervals between each turn of the page.

“Are you alright?”

Thor didn’t even realize the man had stopped reading. He blinked, the words fuzzily connecting in his head. _I’m fine,_ he should say. _I’m sorry for staring at you,_ he could say.

What ended up leaving his mouth was: “No.”

“Come sit with me,” the man said. Thor didn’t fight him. His feet dragged him over, and he sat beside the man.

The man didn’t say anything more. He opened up his book and continued to read. He leaned his knee against Thor’s, and that simple human warmth struck Thor deep in his heart. Thor thought he had cried all of his tears at his mother’s bedside, but it seemed he hadn’t run out just yet. The tears trailed down his cheeks. Beside him, the man didn’t comment; he was just there, comforting in his presence.

The train continued on to unknown places. Thor and the man sat together in this isolated pocket of the world. There was nothing but the flap of the page of a book and the gentle rocking of the train’s movements. The train kept going. Eventually, it would reach its destination. The man would finish his book, and Thor would cease to cry. But they were not there yet. Where they were was here, together, sunlight at their backs.

The world turned on its axis, and the planets spun in their orbits. The train traveled on its tracks. All around, everything was moving. Though Thor felt lost, now - though he had been knocked out of place by the shifting ground beneath his feet - eventually, one day, all things would cycle back to the way they once were. The world was turning, the planets spinning, the train curving along its path, and as everything fell back into its proper place, Thor, too, would find himself again.

(In a place like this: with the sun on their shoulders, the warmth of their bodies shared between them as they rested, side by side.)


	91. Drift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pacific Rim AU.

The day that the Iron Man Jaeger sank into the ocean, Thor bust open the engineering lab’s doors and stormed toward his brother. “Loki!”

“Thor,” Loki responded. He kept calm, even when Thor yanked his collar and dragged him away toward a far wall. The other engineers watched on with fretful eyes as Loki raised his hands. “Brother, be calm, I--”

“Do you think we have the _luxury_ to just stand by while our friends lose their lives to protect us?” Thor yelled, shoving Loki up against the wall. “Don’t you have any sense of responsibility? Or are you just a coward?”

“Thor, I told you - we can’t--”

“Bull _shit,”_ Thor snarled, shoving Loki again. Loki let out an oof, hands coming to circle Thor’s fist which held Loki up. “We’re brothers. You know we’re drift compatible. You just don’t want to risk putting yourself in danger, even as the world burns around you!”

Thor abruptly let go of Loki and took a step back. Loki fell to his feet, momentarily disoriented as Thor continued to speak.

“Brunnhilde lost her partner in the last raid,” he said. Thor made to turn and leave, the words drifting from the direction of Thor’s back. “I’m going to see if we’re compatible. The Valkyrie needs piloting.”

A flash of fear rippled through Loki’s eyes. He surged forward, hand catching the back of Thor’s shirt. “Wait!” Thor stopped his steps. He didn’t turn around, not until Loki stepped closer, head downturned to mask the expression of anxiety on his face. “I…”

“Will you fight with me, brother?” Thor murmured.

Loki closed his eyes. “Yes, damn you. Yes.”

  


Technically, Loki wasn’t meant to pilot a Jaeger. But that didn’t matter when he and Thor stood in the simulation room, readying to enter the pod that would connect their minds and test whether they could work together as one singular consciousness.

Thor saw Loki hesitate in front of the pod. The commanding officer saw, too. “Just get in,” she said, voice clear over the intercom. “You two have one of the highest records for drift compatibility we’ve ever seen. You’ll be fine.”

Loki just tilted his head in acknowledgment, his expression carefully blank and unreadable. He clambered into the pod, and Thor followed suit. Before the pos closed, Loki said, his voice low, “Whatever happens… forgive me.”

“Loki?” Thor asked, but the mechanisms of the simulation pods whizzed as the lids closed over them.

  


It started with a memory.

And another. And another.

Cascading before his eyes were dozens of images. Foreign visions of himself - old and young, human and inhuman. Alien worlds, strange sightings.

Loki at the center, gazing at Thor with a sad calm.

“Don’t look,” he said.

  


Thor’s chest heaved. He sat on a bench, bent over with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He’d stripped down to his pants. Sweat lined his bare skin. His shirt lay in a smelly heap at his feet; he’d taken it off after he’d thrown up.

Loki stood next to him, watching.

“What the fuck was that,” Thor asked between pants. His heart couldn’t settle. His mind felt like it was racing faster than a spaceship. Flashes kept popping up in front of his eyes - Loki, blue-skinned and red-eyed, scowling at him. Loki sitting beside him on a sofa, his head nestled onto Thor’s shoulder. Loki, young and small, carrying a dagger as he and Thor sparred in some sort of fantasy medieval courtyard. It was too much. Thor covered his face with his hands, trying to block the light from reaching his aching eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered. A moment passed. Thor heard a swish of movement, and in the next instant, Loki’s arms wrapped around Thor’s head. Loki hugged Thor to his stomach, hands running through Thor’s hair. “I knew it was too much. I knew.”

It was warm in Loki’s embrace. Thor let himself sink into it. It was familiar. So familiar. “What was that?” he asked again.

“I don’t know.”

Loki sounded sincere - but Thor knew him. He was hiding something. Loki had a theory about what nested in his mind, that crazy and tangled web of millions of memories. He didn’t want Thor to know. He didn’t want Thor to suffer knowing.

“You’re the only one who remembers. Every time?”

Loki didn’t answer. He just kept running his fingers through Thor’s hair.

Thor dropped his hands from his eyes. He buried his face into Loki’s stomach and hugged Loki close. “I’m sorry.” His voice choked. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

It wasn’t. And Thor knew - if there was anything that would let him remember the next time, if he could do anything to keep Loki from being alone, he had to do it. “We’re trying again,” he said. “We’re going to do the Drift again.”

If Loki had to carry all of those memories in his mind, then Thor - Thor could do it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU was suggested to me over tumblr! Thank you!!!


	92. Favour

“Mother, have you seen Loki?” 

“He’s reading outside, dear,” Frigga said. Thor’s face brightened, and Frigga held back a laugh as her son dashed away. He might be dressed to the nines in his tournament armor, but he still looked just as young as when he was a child.

Thor found Loki sitting on a bench in the shade. “Brother!” he called. Loki looked up.

“Thor.” Loki lowered his book. “You’re all set for the tourney, I see.”

“Not quite.” Thor knelt on the ground in front of Loki, a hand clasped over his chest. Loki raised a brow. “I am still in need of a favour.”

“Oh?” Loki regarded Thor with half-lidded eyes. “Surely there are others you could ask. The Lady Alfhilda or Lady Hallbera. Or perhaps the tavern maid from a week ago, if you wanted to--”

“I wish for  _ your  _ blessing, brother. I fight for you.” 

Loki’s protestations died away at the seriousness in Thor’s voice. He met his brother’s eyes, and after a moment, he said, “Fine.”

He drew from his pocket a handkerchief. Loki offered it to Thor, but rather than take the cloth immediately, Thor gently grasped Loki’s hand and kissed the back of it. His lips were hot against Loki’s skin, the scratch of his beard causing Loki to shudder.

“Thank you, brother.” Thor released Loki’s hand and palmed the handkerchief. He grinned up at Loki, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll be sure to win for you.”


	93. Miracle

"I am afraid there is nothing more that can be done, sire," the physician said, shutting the door to the bedroom.

"That's not good enough."

Thor, the mighty Lord of the lands of Asgard, looked brittle where he sat with his head hung and his hands clasped. The dark bags beneath his eyes and the pallid tint to his skin betrayed the worry he had suffered whilst attending his consort's bedside.

"Try harder," Thor ordered. "Find something that will save him." The lord's clasped hands tightened, and the sound of his own bones creaking filled the air.

The physician gulped and took a step back. "I - I am sorry, sire, but there is no cure for what ails the Lord-Consort, beyond what can be found in myths and legends."

The Lord of Asgard was silent for a moment. He considered these words, the heavy weight of his one eye resting on the ground. Then he reached out and grasped the handle of his axe, standing and and dragging the axe over his shoulder. The physician gaped at the Lord's rising form, retreating. few steps in the face of the sheer power of his figure.

"S-Sire?"

"If myths and legends will cure him, then I'll just have to go hunting for them."

"Sire!" The physician scurried to catch up to Thor, who strode away, intent on leaving the castle. "Sire, that is an impossible task! Forgive me for saying this, but it is a fool's errand to go out and -- Please, sire, I understand your grief, but--"

"There are many things in this world which people might consider impossible," Thor said, not even looking at the physician who buzzed after his ankles. "Magic. True love. Fairy tales. But they're all real, you know. The world is full of more things you can even imagine. And miracles? Well, they're not so hard to find."

Thor flashed a smile at the physician.

"Trust me. I would know."


	94. Rivalry

Loki had assumed he had been born in yet another world without magic. He had been wrong.

On the surface, the little London neighborhood he lived in was utterly normal. Loki was the fourth child of an upper-middle-class family. As a baby, he watched his brothers suit up in their public school uniforms and set out to learn the mundane lessons of language, literature, and mathematics. A nanny cared for Loki for most of the day, and whenever she averted her attention (usually toward the television), Loki took the opportunity to flex his mind, his muscles, and, sometimes, his magic. 

When the nanny looked back at Loki, she often scratched her head at the unfamiliar placement of the things around him, or rubbed her eyes upon seeing something that she swore had been a different color a few moments ago. 

To Loki, the ability to harness seidr (as meager as it may be) was a welcome surprise. Growing up, he used it to his advantage wherever he could - to keep a door open, to stir a few spoons, to warm up a mug. Small enhancements to his daily life which ultimately meant nothing. He lived a peaceful life with a warm, if distant, family, and had little need to flex his seidr for any feats greater than keeping his cup of tea at the perfect temperature.

That is, until Loki turned eleven.

“Is that an owl at the window?” said Loki’s mother.

“Shoo! Get that bird away,” said his father.

A brother intervened, “No, no. Look at the poor thing. We should let him in. He’s freezing.”

“Is that a letter in his talons?” a sister pointed out.

Needless to say, upon retrieving the letter, Loki and his entire muggle family were astounded.

  
  
  


“Lucas, will you be alright?” his sister asked, wringing her sleeves. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back home? You don’t have to go to a magic boarding school just because you can do magic. You know you could be an excellent lawyer.”

“Dana, he’s already getting on board the train. It’s a little too late for last-minute regrets,” his brother said.

“But the train’s not gone yet. We could still bring him home and--”

“I’m fine, Dana, Wes,” Loki cut in. He pointed at his luggage which still sat on the platform. “Help me bring up my suitcase, would you?”

“I’ll help!” a youthful voice declared. A gold-haired blur zipped toward Loki’s suitcase and began trying to haul it up. “Urk-!”

“Um,” Wes said, holding out his hands tentatively. “That’s kind of you, but you should let me--”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” huffed the blond-haired boy, who was now quite red-faced. After some struggles, he successfully lifted Loki’s suitcase onto the train’s luggage compartment. “Phew!” The boy wiped the sweat off his brow, and after taking a moment to recover his breath, he struck a heroic pose with his hands on his hips and beamed at Loki. “Good to meet you! Is this your first year going to Hogwarts, too?”

Loki returned a rather tepid smile. “Thank you. Yes, it is.”

“I figured so!” the boy declared, walking over to join Loki on the passenger train. “After all, you looked like you could use some assistance - and I, of course, as the son of Odin, had to help out in any way I could.”

He beamed at Loki again.

Loki’s expression was the same as the Mona Lisa’s. 

The boy held out his hand. “My name is Thor Odinson! Might I have your name?”

Loki’s gaze flickered toward Thor’s hand. The pregnant pause of silence was just long enough to make his siblings sweat where they stood on the platform.

“Lucas!” Dana hissed. “Don’t be stubborn. Shake his hand! He could be your first friend!”

“I am so sorry, Thor,” Wes said. “Our little brother is - well - he’s a tad awkward - never really learned people skills--”

Loki rolled his eyes. He grabbed Thor’s hand and shook it once. “Lucas Lawson. A pleasure.” He dropped Thor’s hand. 

His siblings nearly gasped from the display of rudeness, but Thor didn’t seem to mind. He beamed at Loki again. “I can already tell. We’re going to be great friends!” He clapped Loki on the shoulder, ignoring the frosty look Loki directed at the infringing hand.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful,” Dana gushed. She dabbed at her eye with a handkerchief. “We were ever so worried. Little Lukey, going on his own to boarding school! Without anyone to look after him! And in such a dreadful competitive environment, too!”

Thor blinked. “Competitive environment? You don’t mean the Hogwarts Houses, do you?”

“Yes!” Dana replied, clutching her hanky. “Lucas told us all about it. Oh, how dreadful. To think of how the other children will treat him, just because of who he is!”

The moments it took Thor to decipher this showed on his face. He came to a conclusion with a puff in his chest and a fierce expression of courage. “Fear not! I won’t allow a single Slytherin bully Lucas for being muggleborn. You have my word!” Thor thumped a fist to his chest, a brave smile on his face. “Those cowardly dark-magic snakes won’t even try once they know I’m protecting him. After all, I’m the son of Odin. Not only that,  I’m guaranteed to be sorted into Gryffindor. The house of courage, bravery, justice! With me on his side, there won’t be a single slimy snake laying a hand on your brother!”

He clapped Loki in the shoulder again, heartily, not noticing the aghast expressions on Dana and Wes’s faces.

“Oh dear,” Dana murmured, a hand over her mouth.

“A wonderful statement,” Loki said, smiling as he caught Thor’s eye. Thor returned the smile cheerfully. “As a Gryffindor, would you say all Slytherins are your dire enemies, then?”

“I would!” Thor proclaimed, puffing out his chest even more. He didn’t hear Wes muttering  _ Oh, blimey  _ down at the platform. “After all, everyone knows Slytherins are cowards who pick on muggles and muggleborns and who practice dark magic. They’re as evil as evil can be!”

“Fascinating,” Loki said brightly. 

He knocked Thor’s hand off his shoulder. 

To Thor’s gaping face, Loki said, “Just so you know, I myself am guaranteed to be sorted into Slytherin - so, I’ll see you on the other side, then,” and flounced away.

  
  
  


Come Winter break, Loki returned home to effusive hugs and pampering from his family. They sat him down at the dinner table, heaped several layers of food on his plate, and pried every detail of his school life from him.

“How were classes?”

“Did you learn anything interesting?”

“How were people treating you?”

“Did you make any friends?”

Dana cut in, looking nervous, “Whatever happened to that boy we met on the train? The one who said he was going to be your archenemy, or the like?”

Loki daintily cut a sliver of the first layer of ham on his plate. He tastefully nibbled on it, and after swallowing, he responded, “Oh, him?” He went back to cut another sliver. “Funny story. He ended up in Hufflepuff, of all places. We’re good friends now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thoughts:  
> Odin is the Minister of Magic, which is why Thor keeps throwing his name around as if it means something (which it doesn't, to Loki's family). Thor totally had an identity crisis on the 5 hour train ride to Hogwarts.


	95. Selkie

It was meant to be a safe voyage, but somewhere along the way came a storm, several gusts of winds, and, ultimately, a shipwreck.

Loki groaned. He opened his gritty eyes, and was glad to find that - one - he was alive, and two - he was on land. A beach shore, to be precise. 

Not so great was the fact that he was currently being cuddled by a massive, blubbery seal. “Shit,” he said.

He tried to wriggle free, but the seal was alarmingly aggressive in its cuddling. It flapped its flipper around Loki as if to hold him, and it let out a sad  _ arf  _ when Loki elbowed it in its blubbery gut. “Let me go, damn you,” Loki cursed, eventually wrenching himself from the confines of the seal’s embrace. Wiping himself, he turned to level a glare at the animal, only to find himself confronted by two massive, watery eyes. The seal gazed at him with such pitiful and forlorn longing that Loki nearly felt bad for it. “I’m not a toy,” was all he said, before he stood and turned around to leave.

Not a second later, Loki was tackled from behind, landing face-first in the sand.

“Hmrlgkfh,” Loki yelled.

“Don’t go!” Thor plopped on top of Loki, wrapping his muscled and tanned arms around Loki’s body. His seal skin was draped over his shoulders, and it covered the both of them like a blanket. “Stay with me. Be my wife. Please?”

Loki pushed himself from the ground, and with a trick of momentum, rolled until Thor was below him and Loki sat on top. Loki glared down at Thor with narrowed eyes. “You’re a  _ selkie?” _ he asked, voice dripping with disbelief. He plucked at the seal skin’s fur, and Thor let him touch it without anything more than a naive blink. “Rather than tackling me to the ground, shouldn’t you be able to entice me to stay?”

Thor looked up at Loki with glistening puppy eyes. He grasped Loki’s hands. “Please stay?”

Loki looked down at Thor in disgust.

_ “Fine,” _ he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki tosses fish out over the ocean, and seal!Thor jumps out of the water and catches it like a dog grabbing a ball out of mid-air.
> 
> Just a self-indulgent one for me, because I love selkies a heckton!! Big floppy seals that turn into people with blankets!! Why are people so obsessed with werewolves and vampires when the true superior supernatural being has been in front of us this whole time????


	96. Jotun

He and Thor married under the winter aurora of Jotunheim. For the first time, Loki thought that life in this frozen land could be rather beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spent all day at a theme park with my sister! very tired.


	97. Crumble

"Watch your step, prisoner."

They picked across the debris of an ancient civilization. Broken walls crumbled beneath their feet. The once-gleaming golden architecture had been picked clean until only stone remained. 

This place, like many things, had become a skeleton of what it once was - though not many remembered what that ancient time had been like.

The guards escorted the prisoner across the ruins. They lead him up into the largest structure at the center of the planet. It had been tall, once, but was now a broken hallway with a hole in the ceiling. Light flowed over what seemed to have been a throne room, though there was no longer a throne.

The prisoner looked up at the ceiling, and the guards followed his gaze. Part of the atrium was still intact; there were faintly visible murals painted on the ceiling. One of them was a portrait of what may have been the royal family, once upon an age. The prisoner seemed enraptured by it.

"Is this where you wanted to go?" one of the guards asked. 

"Yes," the prisoner said, not turning his eyes away from the ceiling. "Right here." 

The prisoner kept walking, going up the steps. He kneeled in front of the empty area at the top of the steps, where the golden throne used to be.

"It's a ruin," said the guard. "You sure you want to be exiled here?"

"Yes," said the prisoner. "It's not exile to me. It's coming home." It was nonsensical, of course. The prisoner had been born on Kett, a galaxy away, just like the rest of their kind. But the prisoner was a madman, so the guards knew better than to question the strangeness of his words.

"Then you, L'Ok, son of L'Af, are hereby exiled. You shall never leave this rock. Repent for your crimes through solitude and death."

With their duty done, the guards filed out of the hall and returned to their ship, leaving the prisoner behind.

The prisoner continued to kneel in place. He looked above at the faint murals, a wistful expression on his face.

"I'm home, mother. Brother. It's been an age since I was last here. Let's see, the first time was..."


	98. Princes

Once upon a time, there were two princes.

They had loved each other. As brothers, as friends, as lifelong companions.

Yet neither of them knew that one of the princes was a monster, while the other had sworn to slay all of the monster’s kind to the last one.

Tragic, wasn’t it? Loki thought so. 

In this life, he had been born without memories - yet he still loved Thor with his entire being. Foolish. Loki truly was such a weak and sentimental creature. Even without knowing anything, he had somehow fallen in love with the same man twice.

They had grown up together, side by side. Loki thought they’d never be separated. He knew he would never be King, and he was fine with that - so long as he had a place by his brother’s side. So long as he kept his home, able to return to his mother’s embrace and his brother’s warm smile. 

But once he knew what he truly was, Loki realized what fate decreed him to be.

The foil to the protagonist. The shadow to the sun. The villain to the hero.

Loki wasn’t meant to stay by his brother’s side. He was meant to be killed by him. A monster with evil running through its veins wasn’t meant for soft embraces and promises of love. 

It all made sense, then, why Loki never felt deserving of love. Why he always had to try so hard to win even the barest of scraps of Thor’s affection and attention, when some woman could just bat an eyelash and have him eating out of the palm of her hands. It was because Loki was innately a monster, undeserving of such simple joys - he was meant for the cold, and for blood as red as his natural eyes. 

No matter how hard he tried to prove he wasn’t a monster, there wouldn’t be any use. He was always meant to be that way.

(But sometimes, when his mother stayed with him, or when Thor held him - when Thor looked at him - Loki felt as if he were still just the same scared little boy he had been so many years ago, waiting for someone to hold him and tell him it would be alright.)

Loki was meant to hurt Thor. Thor was meant to kill him.

So it was strange how - 

Strange, how Thor had kept extending his hand to Loki. 

Every time, every instance. No matter the evils Loki had committed. No matter how everyone else had turned their backs on him, saying that Loki was irredeemable.

Thor was always there, waiting for Loki. No matter how much Loki hurt him.

Even dozens of lifetimes later, the memories were as fresh and painful in Loki’s mind as if they had happened yesterday:

Three times, Thor had cried. Reaching out for Loki, and begging him not to go.

But Loki went, and Thor couldn’t follow.


	99. Beginning

The wildflowers were in full bloom. Loki sat on the hill, resting in the shade of the willow, and looked out over the colorful fields. His fingers played nervously with a lock of hair he had placed in his satchel.

Thor might not come after all.

Loki didn’t fool himself into thinking that being sworn brothers meant anything. They’d made that promise when they were children, and now Thor was the hero of his people. He was the greatest warrior of them all, and was next in line to inherit the throne. Everyone wanted a piece of his attention. For what reason would Thor give his time to the outcast, the child who’d been abandoned by his own people? The only reason why Loki survived was due to the mercy of the King. Everyone made sure he remembered that. Everyone except for Thor.

Thor always looked at Loki like he didn’t see the outcast. Instead, he saw who Loki could really be. A fighter in spirit, with sharp knives and a sharper tongue. Someone who understood and thought of the world a little differently from everyone else, but was by no means any lesser for it.

Thor saw the best in people. He played with Loki when they were children, regardless of how many times the elder mothers hissed at him to leave the filthy outcast alone. He took Loki on hunting trips, even when the other warriors said Loki would bring him bad luck.

He was the only person to ever make Loki feel like he was valued, his company treasured. So Loki hoped - his fingers knotted around the lock of his hair - he hoped that whatever innate value Loki had would be enough to offer.

“Brother!” a voice boomed. It was Thor, of course: Thor, bounding across the meadow, his golden hair gleaming in the sun. Thor reached the shade of the willow and sat beside Loki, a grin on his face. “Fancy meeting you here. Waiting for someone special, are you?”

“Ha,” Loki responded, voice flat. He tried to hide the way his fingers trembled with nerves. “Someone important to me, yes.”

The admission gave Thor only a slight moment’s pause. He beamed and slung an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Ah, I knew I’d worm my way into your heart eventually!”

“Your persistence is once again undefeated.”

“As it should be,” Thor proclaimed. He was a wall of heat at Loki’s side, and he gave Loki a single squeeze before letting go, leaving Loki feeling bereft. “So, what’s this about? You don’t normally call me over. Usually I have to go looking for you. Is there news? Are you--”

Something caught Thor’s eye. His expression lost its levity as he gazed at Loki, his brow furrowed. He reached out, fingers brushing against Loki’s hair.

“Did you cut a lock off?”

“I--” Loki’s fingers clenched around the lock of hair. Now, he should tell him now.

But before Loki could speak, Thor suddenly smiled and withdrew his hand. “You never told me you found someone.”

“What?”

“You’re planning on wedding someone?”

“I… yes. If they would have me,” Loki said, feeling imbalanced. The thought that Thor had immediately concluded Loki must have found someone else was… discouraging. As if Thor would never consider Loki as a mate, and that was why the thought that Loki had meant it for him had never crossed his mind. The lock of hair slid from Loki’s now-clammy fingers as he withdrew his hand from his satchel.

It was stupid of him. What was he thinking, intending to wed the King’s son? Of course Thor wouldn’t want him.

“What about you,” Loki returned, looking woozily down at his knees. He needed to say something, anything to distract Thor from this.

Thor was silent for a moment. And then, he said, “Loki.”

“Yes?”

Thor got up. “Wait for me.”

He walked down the hill and into the field of wildflowers. Loki watched, baffled, as the great golden warrior weaved his way through the field, plucking a few flowers along the way. He stood somewhere too far to clearly see for a bit, then returned.

Thor smiled and sat down beside Loki again. “Give me your hand?” he asked, and Loki obediently held out his hand.

“What are you…”

Loki trailed off.

Thor had woven a bracelet of wildflowers, and he wrapped it delicately around Loki’s wrist.

“This is the way your people propose marriage, isn’t it?” Thor asked, trying the stems of the flowers together. “You told me about it when we were younger. The bracelet around your mother’s wrist. I remembered.”

“Thor,” Loki said, at a loss. He couldn’t stop staring at the colorful blossoms. Gold, red, and purple, blooming over his pale skin.

“It’s not gold and jewels, but--”

“It’s the sentiment that matters.” Loki lowered his wrist. He kept staring at the bracelet - Thor’s intention to marry - with his heart pounding, his eyes beginning to sting as they misted over. “Thor.”

“I realize that there may be someone else in your heart,” Thor said, looking down. “But I had to say something. Loki, I love you - I love you more than words can tell. I would move mountains and fight demons for a single touch of your affection. And though I know you may not feel the same for me--”

Thor’s words dried up as Loki reached into his satchel and drew out the lock of his hair.  His breath caught, his eyes growing wide as Loki leaned forward and brushed his fingers through the fall of Thor’s hair. “I do,” Loki said. “Shall we tie the string here and now, then?” Loki picked out a strand of hair, and when Thor nodded in a daze, he began weaving Thor’s golden hair together with the lock of his own dark hair.

“Let us be married and tie the strings of our fate together,” Loki said. His fingers worked deftly to twist the strands together. “So we are one, and together, face whatever may come.” Loki finished and tied off the strand, and by the end of it, Thor was gazing at Loki with complete amazement.

“You feel the same for me,” he said.

“There should never be any doubt how much I love you,” Loki said, his face heating up as he said the words. Thor grinned and laughed, and he set a hand on Loki’s neck to pull him forward.

They shared a kiss beneath the tree, and as their lips parted, they breathed a promise to each other: to love one another forever, until the end of time.


	100. Forevermore

Loki woke up coughing. His entire body felt strange and weak, and when he fluttered his eyes open, the lights were far too bright.

“Shhh. Take it easy.” A familiar voice settled over him. A rough and warm hand brushed Loki’s head.

“Th...or?” Loki asked, his voice coming out a faint wheeze. The figure was blurry and out of focus, but the more Loki looked, the clearer he saw. It was his brother, Thor - his hair was still cropped short, its color dark, but his eyes-- “What…?”

Thor had two eyes, one the familiar blue, the other a strange brown. A scar ran down his face over the brown eye, the same scar Hela had inflicted. But that couldn’t be right. In the world where that happened, Loki was already dead. Thanos had killed him, and Thor… Thor had been left alone.

Thor didn’t answer Loki’s question. He picked up Loki’s hand and held it between his own. The way he cradled it seemed almost in prayer. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m…” Loki coughed, and Thor swiftly picked up a cup of water and brought it to his lips. Loki drank, and when he was done, he tried to speak again. “I’m… alright. But what…”

Loki looked around the room, trying to get any bearing of where and when he was. He was laying in a soft bed in an unfamiliar room. The architecture and furniture seemed like a rustic sort of Asgardian build, made of wood and stone. Thor wore a simple shirt and breeches, and a quick glimpse down revealed that Loki was naked.

Loki’s breath hitched. He weakly raised his hand and traced the scar on his torso - the brutal scar left behind after he’d been stabbed by the Kursed while trying to save Thor’s Midgardian paramour from the Aether. This meant he was in the world of the second lifetime he had ever lived - but that was impossible. He had already died, and he had lived dozens of lifetimes after that one. Each of them was clear in his mind, all of the experiences and memories layered and distinct. So how could he come back to this, after all this time? “I thought - I thought I died.”

Thor took Loki’s hand again. He brought it to his mouth and rested his lips on the skin. “You did,” he said.

“What?”

“You did die. And I brought you back.”

“What,” Loki said. He tried to sit up, but could only prop himself up a few inches. “What happened. What did you do?”

“Well, where should I start?” Thor chuckled, but the sound was humorless. “Suppose I should go with what happened after you threw yourself at Thanos with a knife and got yourself killed, hm? After that, the ship blew up. I ended up floating in space. Met a few friends, got myself a new axe and a new eye, failed to stop Thanos. Tried not to think about how I’d failed the world and lost all of my friends and family along with half of the population of the universe. The Avengers and I ended up saving the world, anyway, and reversing what Thanos did. That’s a story for another time. You didn’t come back with the rest, when we changed what Thanos did. You were gone.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor’s story, and the way Thor skirted around all of the details. “Then how am I here?”

“I made a deal.”

“What deal?” Thor stood. “With who? Thor!”

“You should get some rest. Your body still needs to recover,” Thor said, pushing Loki back down. He tucked the blankets around Loki. “Don’t glare at me like that. You look like you’re going to bite me.”

“I just might,” Loki seethed. “Anything powerful enough to bring someone back to life is dangerous, and the cost is always too high. What did you do, Thor?”

Thor looked Loki in the eyes. He smiled. “Kept a promise, that’s all.”

  
  
  


Loki spent a few days suffering in bed. Thor usually brought him meals, and if not Thor, then it was some other Asgardian Thor had wrangled into tending to his bedridden brother. Over these days, Loki learned that his current location was an Asgardian settlement on Midgard, rather uncreatively named ‘Asgardia’. Apparently, Thor had brokered a deal with the Midgardians to allow the remains of his people to settle along that cliff in Norway.

Thor dodged most of Loki’s questions, saying that he would answer whenever Loki was ‘recovered’ and ‘well enough’ - and that, of course, meant that by the time Loki was _actually_ recovered, Thor promptly disappeared somewhere.

Loki stalked through Asgardia, glaring as he searched for his brother. Loki was finally up and out of bed, and Thor was nowhere to be found. No one had seen Thor take Stormbreaker out of the village, so he had to be somewhere, avoiding Loki. Or waiting for him.

“Figures that you would be here,” Loki said, when he finally found him. Thor was sitting on a rock overlooking the cliff and the ocean. Loki joined him and sat on the other side of the rock. The breeze billowed over the cliff, rustling the waves of grass at their feet.

“Going to make a snide comment about my sentimentality?” Thor asked.

“No,” Loki said. He looked out over the dark ocean waves. The memories of the last time he was here were so distant. It was almost foreign.

Thor folded his hands, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked out over the ocean. “I guess I should explain a few things to you.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Thor cracked a smile. His eyes were distant nevertheless. He let out a breath and, after a moment of thought, said, “I used to have dreams when I was a child.” It was a strange place to start, but Loki kept quiet. Thor looked down, deep in his own memories. “They were just flashes, usually. A smell of something. Bright spots of color. But when I grew older, the dreams became longer. More detailed. I used to dream of… another place. Another time. Where you and I both lived. Growing up, I just thought it was just a strangely vivid fantasy. I didn’t pay much attention to it. But then, after you fell from the Bifrost… I thought you were dead. And I couldn’t bear it. I started thinking about the dreams more, trying to bring them out so I could experience a world where you were still alive and by my side, even if it was only in dreams. The more I thought about them, the more real they seemed. So real that whatever I dreamed didn’t seem like fantasies anymore. They seemed more like… memories. From another life.”

Loki’s eyes went wide.

“I know. Strange, isn’t it? But I’m sure that’s what they were. They confused me for a long time. I didn’t know what to think of these dreams, these _memories_ for a while. Our relationship was… different, in them. We were…” Thor hesitated.

“...in love,” Loki finished.

Thor looked over and met Loki’s gaze, a flash of uncertainty on his face. “You knew?”

“I know what you’re talking about,” Loki said quietly. “We were married, weren’t we?”

“Kissed beneath the willow.” Thor’s gaze on Loki was intense. “You knew all this time?”

“Not all this time,” Loki admitted. “Before I died, I… didn’t know anything.”

“But now you do. Of course.” Thor looked away. He took a deep breath. Then, after a moment, he gestured toward his shoulder, where the fall of his hair should have been if it weren’t cut short. “You remember, when we promised to marry, you braided your hair with mine and said our strings would be connected?” His voice had an undercurrent of uncertainty in it, like he wasn’t sure if Loki would actually know what he spoke of.

But Loki said, “Yes. I remember.”

Thor took another deep breath. He clasped his hands and clenched them into a fist. “You do. Alright. Good. Well, in this life, each time you died, I kept thinking about that. Thinking about the promise we made. That memory was one of the happiest moments I’d ever experienced, and it wasn’t even a part of _my_ life.” Thor laughed wetly, his eyes starting to gleam. “After losing you again, the memory wasn’t enough. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. All I could see when I closed my eyes was the ghost of what we could have been… what we could be, if I just got you back.”

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall together. Loki closed his eyes. “You went to the Norns,” he said.

“The weavers of the tapestry of fate,” Thor murmured. “They wove us together in the past life. I asked them to weave us together in this one, too. They told me that by asking them to pull your thread and connect it with mine, they would be changing every tapestry. From the ones in the past, to the ones in the future - in all of them, our threads would forever be connected, our fates intertwined.”

“And you said yes.”

“I did.”

Loki sighed. His brother. His Thor. Ever foolish, rushing into things without knowing the consequences. “I have memories, too,” Loki explained. “Of almost a hundred lifetimes. I saw how our fates play out. We are intertwined, yes, but it’s not always happy. You may come to regret tying yourself to me.”

“You’ve seen a hundred of our lives together?” Thor sat up. His brows furrowed. “Why do you say I might regret what I’ve done?”

Loki huffed. “Because you don’t… because while I always love you, you don’t necessarily return the sentiment. Even in this one.”

Thor considered this for a moment. There was an undercurrent of grief in Loki’s words which Thor carefully deciphered.

“It was silly to expect that, anyway. We couldn’t have known this would happen when we first made our promises. Just because you love someone once doesn’t mean you can do it a hundred times.”

“But you did,” Thor murmured.

“Of course I did,” Loki said. “You’re you.”

Thor looked at Loki, his eyes shining. “So you still love me?” he asked. “Even now?”

“Of course I do,” Loki said, quieter. “You’re you.”

They stared at each other. The wind tousled their hair, and below, the waves crashed into the shore. A smile broke over Thor’s face, beautiful like the dawn of the sun. He reached out and grasped Loki’s hand, raising it to his mouth to press a kiss to its back.

“You loved me for a hundred lifetimes,” Thor said. “And though in those lives I may have failed you, I swear to you now, Loki, that from now to eternity, that shall not happen again. For the rest of this life and in every life after, I will love you for forevermore. This, I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3<3<3 thank you so much for reading.  
> this marks the end of a hundred day journey!  
> i had a lot of fun with this. thanks so much to everyone who read/commented/sent support! i really treasure all of the people who joined this journey with me.  
> i didn't have a clear plan for the overarching theme, but i hope everything connected in a way that makes sense.  
> (there might be things that don't make sense. if you have questions about what happened... the answer is probably 'i don't know'!)  
> thank you so much :)  
> and to anyone out there also going through/thinking about starting this 100 entry challenge... good luck!!


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